


Seas in Flame

by ominousbears



Category: Ocean on Fire AU, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pacifist Timeline, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Frisk, Wartime Grillby - Freeform, Wartime Shore - Freeform, Water Elemental AU, i beg of u, i have absolutely no idea what i'm doing here, i just write what i feel like lol, it's all cute either way, pls have mercy on me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-08-28 02:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16714405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousbears/pseuds/ominousbears
Summary: Real elementals of any kind are pretty rare, as far as Grillby knows. They need a rare kind of Soul, merged with a rarely-known spirit in an even more rarely-known location, and he can't imagine the process itself is at all easy, so the knowledge required would have to be rare, too. He doesn't know a ton about the circumstances of his creation, but he's sure his kind is far from common.Wait, what's this about another elemental literally in the same town?





	1. An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheNinjaMouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNinjaMouse/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ocean on Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969491) by [TheNinjaMouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNinjaMouse/pseuds/TheNinjaMouse). 



> hello!! this fic is an au of theninjamouse's ocean on fire, which i highly, highly, HIGHLY recommend you read before starting in on this!! there's probably gonna be quite a few spoilers for it eventually!! it's an absolutely marvelous work, and i think you should read it even if you end up not liking my stuff :D
> 
> also, if you think you've seen this before somewhere else, you probably have if you've been to theninjamouse's tumblr!! i submitted it there but then i got way too deep into this, so it's here now lmfao
> 
> disclaimer: i'm really pretty new to writing in general, even if i have studied techniques for a little while, so this may not be the best? i'm mostly using it as practice for my own original works ngl, but i still care a lot about this series!! so!! pls enjoy!!
> 
> (ps. the first chapter is rly short bc i didn't think i'd be continuing this, but the later ones'll be gettin longer, i promise lmao)

Gerson doesn't really text much. He says that it's too much of a hassle for him, that he'd rather speak in person. When he does use his phone, it's usually just for a quick call or something, asking the person on the line to come speak with him. So when Grillby received a short text earlier that morning from Gerson asking him to swing by the shop, saying he's come across something interesting, the fire elemental found it hard to ignore his request.

  
It's only now, the sun approaching its peak overhead, that Grillby can make his way to the old turtle's place. His own firelight catches in the hut's glistening rocky exterior in such a way that it seems to shimmer as he opens the door wide.

  
"Gerson?" Grillby says, stepping inside. "You said you found somethi--" He stops dead in his tracks, flames popping sharply with surprise and eyes going as wide as they possibly can, as he looks at Gerson, who's grinning widely and sitting across a monster he's never seen before in all his long, long life. They, _you_ , spin around at the sound of his entrance and meet his eyes just as he meets yours.

  
You look like you're made entirely of water, a fact which both surprises and alarms him to some degree. Your body's surface, covered by ragged makeshift clothing that looks like it's probably made from tattered sailcloth, shimmers and flows along your arms, stomach, legs, _everywhere_ , and your pale blue color grows richer the closer it gets to your core. As you turn abruptly towards him, the solidity of your form seems to almost lessen; when your hand moves from its rest the table to grip the arm of your chair, the water making up your fingers and forearm trails behind ever so slightly, like it's trying to catch up to the rest of you. Another thick mass of water extending from the back of your head acts much the same, but when the rest of you stops, it keeps going. It stays low but it shifts slowly from side to side behind you, never coming to a complete rest. For a moment, it reminds him of the nature of the flames rising from his own head, which are now tall, erratic, and much brighter than normal.

  
He sees your eyes, entirely a dark, rich blue save for two pearlescent pupils, flick up towards the top of his head and they grow even wider, faint eyebrows shooting up so high they may as well be hidden by the thick goggles strapped to your hairline. In this moment, you're just as speechless as he is.

  
Grillby knows his alarmed feeling is coming from the whole water thing, silly as it may feel now, but the reason behind the surprise eludes him and he doesn't know why for a minute. He's never met a monster made fully from water, and even if he didn't really go to the wetter parts of the Underground all that often, he feels as though he would have seen you around. And your core, it's so rich and blue and he's wracking his head for other monsters he's seen that look like you, and... wait, your core? Your _core_? Could you be--?!

  
"Are you an--"

  
"Oh wow! You're--"

  
Both of you start loudly over one another, one disbelieving and one amazed, before you just as quickly shut your mouths again. Grillby manages to pull his gaze away from you for just a second and instead looks bewildered over at Gerson, whose grin looks even wider now. The flash of embarrassment he feels light across his face makes you smile so wide the corners of your eyes crinkle, and it makes him flush blue again, a little deeper than before.

  
"You're _blue_ now!" you gasp, seemingly fascinated by the color change, and spring up from your seat so quickly it almost falls over. Grillby, frozen as he is, can hardly register the sound of bare feet pitter-pattering across the weathered wooden floors before you pop up closer in his line of sight. He jumps this time, taking a startled step away from you, but you stay where you are, staring up at him in wonder. He's at least a full head taller than you but he still feels a little small under your gaze.

  
Grillby lets out a short puff of smoke (you grin at this too) as some of the tension falls from his shoulders. "What," he breathes to himself in the harsh crackles of his old language, confused as ever, "is going _on_ here?"

  
Unexpectedly, your face brightens even more. Your intense glee is infectious at this point, and Grillby finds the corners of his mouth twitching in spite of himself. Your hands clasp together at your chest, miniscule droplets of water scattering as they collide (curiously enough, none of it even comes close to him). "Stars above, you speak the ancient tongue, too! The surprises never end!" you laugh.

  
Your voice was fluid before, rising out of you easily like the tide over a sandbank, but now... _now_ it's like that's the only part he can hear. Grillby can understand you of course, it's the one thing that doesn't catch him off guard for once, but it's almost like you're speaking in an entirely different accent. Where his words are sharp, snapping, crackling like firewood, yours are bubbling out of you, each syllable bumping into the next until it's a steady stream of sound. It's wonderful and foreign and intriguing all at once.

  
"I suppose not," he says, staring at you again. You're beaming right back at him.

  
You extend your hand out towards him confidently. "In any case," you giggle, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

  
For a second, blinded by old hospitable habit, Grillby almost takes your hand. What reminds him, however, is the subtly cool air rising off your arm and he jerks back again, flames snapping loudly while the faintest green colors their edges. Hurt and confusion washes over your face and out of the corner of his eye he watches your watery hair droop at the same time your hand falls, weighted by emotion, though it still doesn't stop in its movement. Grillby feels like he's stumbling over himself in his attempts to save face.

  
"I'm sorry, I meant no disrespect, it's just that fire and water don't tend to mix well," he assures you, gesturing between you both. "It's entirely possible that we would both get hurt."

  
It takes you a second, but the realisation slowly dawns on you and you cover your increasingly indigo face out of embarrassment as your hair rises up again, higher but closer to your head. "Oh dear, I'd completely forgotten about that! You don't really encounter much fire underwater, you know, so it doesn't come up all that often." You uncover your eyes to peek at him sheepishly. "I meant no harm in it, I swear."

  
"Don't worry about it," Grillby says earnestly, chuckling softly at your embarrassment.

  
You smile and pull your hand away from your face as the indigo begins to fade back into your cheeks. Resting your hand flat over your soul, you bow your head for a second before raising your eyes to meet his once again. "My name is Shore," you tell him, "what's yours?"

  
"It's Grillby."

  
You beam at him again. You think Grillby is a wonderful name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://ominousbears.tumblr.com/) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ominousbears) ✌


	2. A Get-Together

Most everyone who comes to Grillby's bar knows it's fairly hot in there, save for a few tourists or locals who haven't stopped by yet. The look of mild displeasure that hits their faces once the door opens never fails to catch the attention of Grillby himself, and he huffs a little just about every time (or at least he used to; it happens too often to get a reaction out of him now). Lately, however, the air is a bit more humid than normal, and these looks are replaced with something more on the uncomfortable side of things, even for the regulars. The cause of this new phenomenon is sitting right across from him at the bar, gently stirring a green-yellow beverage with a metal straw and focusing intently on the swirl of colors that follows the movement.

You've been crouched low for the better part of five minutes now, chin resting directly on the bar not three inches from the glass. The drink shimmers lightly as it revolves lazily and it's reflected in your own glittering eyes, looking on in amazement. Why you're so awed by one of his simpler drinks Grillby doesn't quite understand, but it humbles him nonetheless. Sans and Frisk, sitting to your left, think it's hilarious and snicker to themselves at the display.

"You know," Grillby says quietly, making you jump and look up at him, "I think it's better to actually drink it than to just swirl it around for an hour."

Indigo rises to your cheeks as you let out a short laugh. "Right, right," you agree, rubbing at the back of your neck for a moment. "It's just really pretty! I've never seen anything like it before." You take the glass in in one hand and the straw in the other, pausing one last time to look at it again, before raising it to your mouth and taking one long drink.

It's so strange, what happens next; the alcohol doesn't just go away like he half-expects it to when you gulp it down. Instead, it blooms a bright green-teal color inside your entire head and runs like paint through, well, water gently downward through your throat into your chest. He can't see past any of the cloth covering it, of course, but he can see hints of it edging into your shoulders and down to your waist. It falls through your arms only a little, intermingling with the rest of you, even as you blink up at him with a wide smile.

"That was incredible!" you cheer. Grillby's flames shift towards pleased yellows as he smiles softly at you. "Are all the drinks as good as this?" You look back and forth between him and the pair to the left of you, who are sipping at their own glasses of ketchup and juice respectively.

Frisk giggles and puts their cup down on the counter as they swipe a menu off a stack within reach. "Pretty much, yeah!" they say brightly. "Grillby's just really good at what he does! Although," they add, dragging a finger along the extended list of beverages and pausing for just a moment, " _this_ one is really cool too!" They tap one item near the bottom firmly, beaming.

Sans, sitting on their other side, leans over their shoulder to look as they angle it towards him so you can't see. His ever-present grin widens as he glances towards Frisk with a knowing look in his eyesocket. "kid's got good taste," he chuckles, taking the menu from them and handing it off to Grillby as he taps the drink's description himself, "not my favorite, but it's definitely _tide_ for one of the best." Frisk bursts into giggles, which makes you laugh quietly at their antics, too.

You grin at Grillby as he looks from the menu to you. You push your now empty glass towards him across the bartop (the teal is gone, he notices as he looks at the arm extended towards him) and rest your chin on the heel of your palm.

"I take it you'd like another drink?" he asks teasingly. You only wink at him in response.

Barely a minute follows as he expertly whips up a new beverage for you, your eyes following his hands the whole time. An ounce of _this_ , two of _this_ , a splash of _this_ , fill to the top with _this_ , stir with a long spoon, garnish with a twist of zest, and... there. He slides the drink, a deep orange-red this time and taller than the last, across the bar into your waiting hands, and you eagerly chug it just as fast, if not actually faster.

It blooms in you again, but rather than teal, a purplish-magenta hue glides along your surface. Since this drink was bigger than the other one, your arms and legs are now flooded, too. You look down at them in surprise, turning your palms over and swaying one back and forth to watch the liquid float through you. Oh this is cool.

"Oh!" you exclaim brightly, "Did this happen with the last one too?" Laughter bubbles up from your chest as you bring your face closer to your arms and examine them.

Grillby nods silently and Frisk beams. "Yup," they affirm, popping the 'p', "it's really fun to _sea_." They giggle again, practically folding in on themselves with the force of it. You tilt your head to the side, vaguely confused by the emphasis.

Sans snickers and nudges their arm. "yeah, i don't know of any _otter_ monster who does that," he says, "do you, frisk?"

Oh. You see what's going on here now.

Frisk plops their head in their hands and puts on an exaggerated thinking face as they try in vain to hide their growing amusement. "Hmm..." They slowly drum their fingers on the dark wood. "Don't think so. I think she's pro _bubbly_ the only one."

You make a face. Sans and Frisk are too caught up in their pun battle to notice it, but Grillby chuckles quietly. He completely understands your reaction.

"are you _shore_ about that?"

Oh cmon, that one wasn't even that good.

" _Dolphin_ ately!"

Okay, that's enough. You raise your hand and flick your fingertips in their direction, causing a few heavy drops of water to bean them both right in the head. "No making fun of me," you playfully scold, fixing them each with a look.

Sans's brow scrunches up in confusion as he wipes the moisture off his face. "we weren't--"

But Frisk cuts him off as they lean forward, startling you backward which makes the water at your head fall over your shoulders. "Was that your magic?" they ask.

"...Yeah? Of course it was?" you reply, bewildered. You move to look back at Grillby, but he's not behind the bar when you turn. When you check the rest of the restaurant, it looks like he's just finished taking orders from some customers who just walked in, stowing some messily scribbled notes in his apron and nodding along while they hand back their menus.  A vague feeling of disappointment rises in your chest and you turn back toward Frisk, who's looking at you with a curious excitement that makes the corners of your mouth twitch upwards. "I'm a water elemental, it makes sense that I'd use water magic, doesn't it?"

Now Sans has leaned forward a little. You feel a little weird under this much scrutiny. "what kind of stuff can you do, though? like some water monsters out there shoot water to try n' wash you off, but i bet you could do a lot more than that, don't you think so, grillbz?"

You jump slightly and whip your head back around to the bar, where Grillby is emerging from the back with trays of food balanced on each arm. Man, he works _fast_. Either that, or you just aren't paying very close attention right now. He pauses thoughtfully for a moment before giving a noncommittal shrug and moving carefully back towards his eagerly waiting customers.

The light thwack on the countertop wrenches your attention away from the bar and back towards Frisk, who has both a hand splayed out flat over the weathered wood and a distinct gleam in their eye. "You've _gotta_ show us now! Grillby's all fire and he can do some really cool stuff with it, so you've gotta be able to do some cool water stuff with yours, right?"

"What? What sort of things have you seen Grillby do?" you ask, suddenly curious yourself.

Sans shrugs and puts an elbow up on the counter. "eh, he's got a bit of a fireball thing, sparks some alcohol sometimes for effect, stuff like that. grillby isn't the type to show off, y'know?" He pauses. "the way i hear it, though, he's done some wild stuff before."

A flicker at the edge of your vision catches your attention and you look back to see Grillby standing behind the bar again. "Is that true?" you ask him when he glances towards you. He tilts his head to one side questioningly. You point a finger at the pair to your left who have now picked up their cups and are back to drinking. "They said you can do some cool things with your fire, is that true?"

Grillby hesitates for a split second and looks past you to the rest of the room to make sure nobody's really looking before nodding and bringing his hands in front of himself and pressing them together. When he pulls them apart, there's a tiny ball of fire floating there and it unfolds into the shape of a tiny bird. It flits around you once, and when you whip around to watch it, the edge of your head's trail barely brushes it. A cloud of steam rises from the intersection and you flinch hard and jerk away from it. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Grillby jump a little too. The bird falters significantly in its flight before stopping in front of you. It flaps solidly in place once, twice, before scattering into embers.

There's a beat of silence between all of you before you direct a sheepish smile towards Grillby. "Sorry I bumped into your bird, I should have been more careful," you shrug, hand moving absentmindedly over the spot in your head's trail where you hit it. It doesn't hurt at all, it just feels weird, like the ghost of a presence that isn't there anymore. Grillby's gaze follows your movements and he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. "But that was wonderful," you tell him sincerely, "I didn't know you could do anything like that."

He flushes blue and gently smiles back as you flip your hands to rest palm side up. You clench them once before slowly pressing them together. A look of concentration crosses your face as your eyes dart up towards Grillby for a fraction of a second before moving back to your hands and shutting tightly.

Frisk looks absolutely thrilled, Sans very interested, and Grillby fairly intrigued as you slowly part your fingers and through them a hand-sized fish swims in the air. It does a loop-de-loop and arcs high towards Frisk and dips down to plant a light smooch on their forehead, making them laugh loudly. With a flick of your wrist, you call the fish back to you and it slams into your hand, reabsorbing the magic and causing only a few waterdrops to splatter across the floor.

You shake your hand out a few times and sigh. "Been a minute since I've done that. Weird!" You look up and find Frisk and Sans grinning at you.

"cool," Sans says.

"Whoa, do it again!" Frisk exclaims.

Grillby just looks on, amused. You blush indigo and grin.

"So what else can you do?" Frisk leans forward on their stool, almost threatening to fall off completely. "Also, why didn't you make yours explode like Grillby did?"

You fix them with a quizzical look. "Because I didn't want to make a mess? And it's not hard to pull it back in, it just feels weird 'til it merges with my core again. Adds a little bit of water that wasn't there before."

"wait," Sans blinks, "can you manipulate how much water you've got on you?"

You grin and clasp both hands around the middle of your head's trail. You scrunch your face instinctively and squeeze tightly. Everyone holds their breaths as all the water past your fists disconnects from your head. There's no hint of your core left in it, and what's left of the cutoff point runs very close to the edge of your skull. The trail slowly rounds out into a basketball-sized sphere and floats in your palms as you bring it to your front.

"This is the most I can _really_ do at will. I think technically I could get smaller than this, but that--”

Frisk sticks their entire hand into the water sphere and wriggles their fingers.

A violent shiver runs straight through your whole being, even down to the bottom of your core, and your entire face erupts into the deepest, darkest indigo possible as you thrust your hands up above your head, effectively ripping Frisk's hand out of your trail. Silently, you return it to the back of your head and wait a second as it reconnects. A glance spared to Grillby affirms that he, too, has gone almost completely blue in the face, though you think you can see a handful of distinct green ribbons skirt across his face. These fade into the same shade of blue, which noticeably strengthens as you meet his gaze. You're sure you look just about the same.

It takes you a second to find your voice. "U-umm..." The shakiness isn't surprising either. "Please don't do that again, Frisk. I'm still connected to my own water, even when it's separate from me." They're looking at you in complete shock and maybe even a hint of shame. Sans looks less horrified, eyelights darting in between you and Grillby, but it's still pretty significant.

"I'm... sorry, I just thought..." they mumble.

"It's okay," you assure them, resting a hand lightly on their arm. That singular action sends a faint chill through you, but you ignore it. "You didn't mean it and you know better now. And anyway, it didn't hurt me, it was just... _supremely_ uncomfortable. It was like if..." you pause, searching for the right analogy, "...like if I could put my hand straight into your head. Disturbing, but not painful."

They nod, grimacing, and turn back to their juice cup.

Oh now this is a silence you just don't like. Once the indigo has receded and everyone else looks fairly normal again, you bean Frisk in the temple with another waterdrop. They look back at you, concerned until they notice the smirk on your face, at which point they also smile. "You wanted to know what else I could do, though, right?"

They giggle and nod brightly. You make sure you've Sans's eye too, looking inquisitive, before you grin and rest your elbow on the bar top, finger outstretched and pointed at Frisk's cup. You wait and... there, connected.

"I think you've had enough to drink for the night." You flick your finger upwards in one quick motion and their juice follows. Frisk lets out a short laugh, probably mostly out of disbelief or frustration, as they try to reach up and grab at it (you're not entirely sure what they'd want to accomplish with that), but you simply move it just out of reach before they can make contact.

Sans absolutely howls next to you, tiny tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he places a hand on your forearm to steady himself. "oh man, that's great," he cackles, watching Frisk run around trying to catch their drink. "is it any different because it's not straight up water?"

You shrug, jerking your finger over as Frisk gets a little close. "Sort of? It certainly feels a bit heavier, but not unbearably so. It's _mostly_ water and that's what matters. If I were to try to move mud, it'd be a lot different and I'd need to put a lot more effort into it."

He hums thoughtfully. You turn your attention towards Grillby, who's currently wiping down his space and cleaning up between orders. He keeps watching you and Frisk (who, as you look back, has almost gotten a hand on their juice, oops, let's change that real quick), but more you than them. Stars, it's so nice to finally see another elemental again. The last one you met came from the storm and she was an absolute delight to be around. She was dark, like the clouds right before it downpours, and forks of lightning ran down her arms and through her trail, which floated behind her like yours does. She'd enter a room and it would instantly light up because her excitement and passion were... electrifying, for lack of a better word. There's no doubt in your mind your old friend would have loved to meet Grillby were she still around. But--

There's a sudden splattering sound as Frisk spikes some of their floating drink straight into the floor. Somehow, they manage to look surprised, proud, and sheepish all at once. Chuckling quietly to yourself, you pull what's left of the juice in the air back together and deposit it straight into their cup; it looks like they're down to about two-thirds left of what they had.

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Grillby moves to clean it up, mop already out, but you raise a hand for him to stop. Another slow gesture, this time to make sure you've gotten everything, and the spilled juice flies over to you before resting a few short inches above your palm. You glance back towards him, where you watch his flames pop in a way that you're beginning to read as gratitude. "Anywhere I can put this?" you ask, bouncing the sphere in your hand.

Wordlessly, Grillby opens the door to the back and immediately past it, you can see a deep sink with a pair of long, thick rubber gloves draped over the side. You flick the ball away and it sails clear over the bar straight into the drain.

Frisk moves to rejoin you all at the bar with sticky, still slightly dripping hands, but Sans nudges them away and towards the bathroom. "gotta clean up," he says, "don't need your mom _carp_ in' on me for bringin' you home all gross." Frisk snickers and sticks their tongue out at him but does as he says. You smile after them.

Sans goes back to drinking his ketchup, pulling his phone out of his pocket when he hears a notification go off, and Grillby watches you trace the whorls in the wood with one finger, obviously thinking deeply about something. He sets down the glass he's just finished polishing and taps the counter in front of you twice to get your attention. Your pearly eyes meet his in a second. "Is everything alright?" he asks, concerned.

You wave a hand dismissively, giving him a soft smile before looking away again. "Just remembering old friends."

Grillby blinks. That feels like it came out of nowhere. "What--"

He's cut off by Frisk's reemergence from the bathroom, hands now clean and mostly dry. They move to hop up to their seat but Sans stops them by sliding off of his. "just got a text from tor, says she wants frisk back for dinner," he tells Grillby, who nods. Frisk gives a disappointed "aww" and Sans pats their head, grinning. "sorry bud, we can come back tomorrow or somethin'. _sea_ ya later shore, later gurbz," he says before winking out of existence with Frisk in tow.

You chuckle before bringing your attention back to the swirls in the countertop. The quiet murmuring of customers behind you and clacking of silverware against plates as meals are finished fade away ever so slowly, and you're left slowly dragging a finger around the rim of your long-emptied glass and watching Grillby's firelight reflect and refract through the surface.

The light grows briefly as an orange hand comes closer and taps the bartop in front of you again, making you look at Grillby. He searches your face for a few long seconds before withdrawing his hand and picking up the towel once more. "What were they like?" he finally asks, slowly drying another glass. "Your old friends, I mean."

You blink once in surprise before you laugh lightly and drop your chin into your palm. "They were wonderful, of course. I was just thinking about how they would have loved to meet you." Another solemn look passes through your face and your trail drops an inch lower. "It's just been kind of a long time since I've seen them," you shrug.

You push your glass back towards Grillby and he waits a minute for you to say something, but picks it up when you don't. "How long?" he murmurs.

There's a sense of hesitation and apprehension that stiffens your whole posture, but you let out a heavy sigh and lock your pearly eyes with Grillby's molten ones. He firmly sets your glass on the countertop and waits for you to continue. Stars, you hope he doesn't think badly of you for this. You gather your courage and just say it.

"What do you know about the war between monsters and humans?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://ominousbears.tumblr.com/) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ominousbears) ✌


	3. A History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter basically doubled the word count of this fic lmfaooo  
> it's 4:48 am here lmao, i gotta get some sleep, enjoy yall
> 
> this is a direct continuation of chapter 2

The restaurant is never quiet in any normal sense of the word, not with so many customers milling about. So it's weird that the only thing you can hear right now, just after you've posed your question, is the crackling of Grillby's flames and the buzzing of your own Soul in your ears. It's been a few minutes now and he hasn't said anything. Either he doesn't know what you're talking about in the way that you do and you just weirdly brought that up out of nowhere, or he absolutely does and--

  
  
A puff of smoke escapes Grillby's mouth when he lets out a disbelieving breath, and most of the tension in his shoulders follows. He just stands there for a moment and stares at you, growing increasingly fidgety under his gaze and fighting to keep your eyes from meeting his again. Your trail is lurking low over your shoulders, agitated and curling in on itself.

  
  
"...What about it?" Grillby finally asks. He doesn't really know what to say other than that, even if he's starting to understand what you're getting at. He just blinks at you and waits for an explanation he doesn't know but expects will come.

  
  
You stay silent a while longer, wringing your hands and staring at your skirt. It's old and worn but still mostly the same beige color it was when you first laid eyes on it, if a little faded from age and wear. You wrap your hand around the cut edge at the bottom and run your thumb against it. _Too soon, too soon, too soon, should have waited, why would you bring it up now, it's only been a few weeks, should have--!_ You push these thoughts aside for a moment and sigh, covering your face with one hand.

 

"My friends and I... we were there," you tell him, voice straining ever so slightly. You don't see it, intent as you are on not looking at him, but Grillby's eyes widen fractionally. "We kind of, um, fought? In it? The others were there before me, but, uh... you know. I helped out where I could." You peek up between your fingers and watch as he runs a hand through his flames, disrupting their snapping and popping for a moment.

  
  
"When--"

  
  
He's cut off by the sound of a new party entering through the door, laughing and talking loudly amongst themselves. You look past them and notice the sky looks a lot darker than it did when the last group came in. Has that much time really passed?

  
  
Grillby gathers the necessary menus and starts to move around the bar to attend to them, but hesitates and looks back to you staring out at the evening sky. It's getting close to the time you'd leave on a normal night and you're already looking like you're ready to bolt.

  
  
"Would you..." His voice, though not unexpected, still startles you. You turn back to him and he readjusts his grip on the menus in hand. "Would you stay until I close the bar? I don't think it'll be long now." Grillby glances towards the clock on the wall. It's two hours until closing time, but depending on how the end of the night goes, he could conceivably close up early. He just might, considering your story and how much he wants to know what you mean by it.

  
  
You pause and throw a sidelong glance towards the door again, now closed, before giving him a soft smile and nodding. "I'll stay," you agree. You jerk your head over towards the new arrivals, now sitting at one of the larger tables and looking at him expectantly. "Now go take care of your customers. No need to make them wait on my account." That startles him into action and he smiles back at you before going off, leaving you snickering quietly behind him.

  
  
The two of you don't really talk much for the rest of the night, though it's not an uncomfortable silence that stretches between you. Grillby attends to his regulars, who occasionally come over to ask you about that magic display from earlier (you end up giving one or two more demos before the night is over), passes you a drink every now and then, and answers your questions about the bar and his job when he can. You, in comparison, try to get the details of your story straight so you aren’t stumbling all over yourself later, watch in mild awe as Grillby mixes drinks together like it’s just second nature to him (in all honesty, it probably is), and mess around a little with your magic to calm your nerves. Some of the tipsier patrons (human and monster alike) practically watch you with stars in their eyes and lean closer to try and get a better look, but they seem harmless enough so you wave off Grillby’s offers to handle them for you.

 

Those two hours until closing time seem to pass awfully quickly, especially considering that Grillby does end up closing the bar about half an hour earlier than normal. Before you know it, the ambient murmurs of the restaurant have gone quiet and the only sound you're left with is the ever-present crackling of Grillby's flames and the gentle swishing of your own trail. You’ve never seen such a lively place so empty before and it’s honestly weirding you out. Grillby doesn’t seem at all affected by it (of course he wouldn’t be, you think, this is _his_ bar) as he prepares you another drink. Something tells you you might be needing it.

 

However, when he finally slides the glass down to you, a cursory sniff tells you it’s only water. Huh. He doesn’t really strike you as the type to willingly handle the stuff all that often, especially after you remember the volatility of mixing it with fire. You take a sip anyway, relaxing in the familiar sensation of pure water swirling with your own magical core.

 

Grillby leans across the bar when you put the glass down, still half full. You meet his eyes, trained on you but patient as ever, and sigh, the sound and feeling of it washing over you like the tide. You’re silent for a moment longer before speaking up again.

 

“What do you want to know?” you ask him.

 

Oh he wants to know a million and one things, but he knows you probably know that so he keeps it simple at first. “When were you summoned? And where?” he wonders.

 

You smile, resting your chin in the palms of your hands. “I don't remember much of it, to be honest, but I think my summoning was in a cavern, except you could see the moon through the ceiling, like it was partially open to the sky. There was the shallow pool I walked out of, and I remember watching the light reflect on the rock walls that surrounded it, but other than that, I'm not really sure.

 

“As for when, I think it was sometime in the spring. It had just rained, so the ground was still usually wet. It was the strangest feeling…” You close your eyes, envisioning the memory and laughing lightly at it. “I remember pretty soon after a meal one time, I accidentally stepped and fell into a pool that was deeper than I expected. It came up almost to my waist because I was still so small,” you giggle under your breath. “It was so familiar but so different from my own water that I just stood there feeling baffled while the rest of my group were practically rolling on the ground laughing at me.”

 

You crack one eye open and gasp in fake offense when you see Grillby covering his mouth as he tries in vain to hide his laughter, his shoulders shaking minimally with the effort. His flames are popping a lot too, you notice, and the corners of his eyes crinkle with the force of his grin. He looks up at you when your gasp reaches him and he starts laughing harder, snickers turning to badly suppressed chuckles. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, waving a hand at you, “it’s just… I can _absolutely_ see it happening.” He’s managed to stop the shaking in his shoulders, but you can still hear him fighting to keep quiet and he’s still definitely grinning at you. You roll your eyes and grab the towel he uses to polish glassware and bop him with it.

 

“I’ll have you know I _never_ fall in puddles like that anymore,” you inform him, narrowing your eyes and pointing one finger sternly. The effect doesn’t go over all that well since you’re also starting to snicker and blush indigo despite yourself. He put his hands up in mock surrender.

 

“Sure, sure.” Grillby holds his position until you rest your hands on the counter again, at which point he quietly mutters, “As far as I know, at least.” He’s expecting the hit from the towel this time, so when you whip it at him he’s able to dodge out of the way.

 

“Oh, what _ever_! Like you’ve never looked dumb in your life!”

 

“I don’t recall ever claiming otherwise,” he teases.

 

You shake your head and take another sip of water. “Didn’t you want me to answer some questions?” you ask when you set the glass down, quirking one faint eyebrow. “You’re not going to get to know anything if you keep laughing like that.” He shrugs after a second, conceding your point, before leaning over the counter as he thinks.

 

“You mentioned friends earlier, ones that you fought with.” He waits until you confirm it with a nod. “Who were they? What were they like?”

 

A soft grin spreads across your face and you sit a little taller on your stool. “I mean, I said it earlier, but they were fantastic. There were three of them, actually, and all of them were elementals. I know, right?!” you exclaim, watching Grillby pop in surprise, “I didn’t know it was weird to have that many in one place until way later, though!

 

“The first one was Faith, a storm elemental. She looked like a thundercloud, and was definitely as loud as one,” you chuckle. “When she got excited or angry or something, these little forks of lightning used to race down her arms and through her trail. They’d do that all the time, actually, but it got more a lot erratic then. Hers was longer than mine,” you gesture to your trail, pulling your hands about a foot past where it ends, “but clouds are lighter than water, so it stayed pretty high most of the time. Stars, I remember she used to shock me all the time just to make sure I was paying attention to her.” You roll your eyes. “She could control her electricity just fine, but she liked to mess with me a lot.”

 

Grillby hums thoughtfully, chin in his palm as he watches you tell your story with a passion he can’t say he hasn’t seen from you yet. It’s obvious that you love your friends and he finds it remarkably endearing.

 

“The next elemental I met was Liam. I think he told me one time he picked a human name because it just sounded cool to him. Something about some mage he fought and won against. He heard someone else yell the name and he liked it, so he took it.” Narrowing your eyes for a moment, you pause. “I think he told me they were… a fire mage?” You shrug. “Doesn’t really matter all that much, I guess. Liam was an air elemental, though, looked a lot like Faith except for the fact that she was really dark and kind of heavy? Liam was more bright and light-weighted, I suppose. You could always see cloud patterns rolling across the surface of his arms, so when there was nothing else to do, me and Faith just sort of watched and pointed out different shapes when we saw them. He would pretend it was annoying but he dealt with us anyway, heh.

 

“The last one I knew was Tyler, and he was technically a fire elemental, I think?” You take a long look at Grillby, thinking. “He was kind of earthy too, though… so mostly like you, but not?”

 

Grillby blinks. “Like me, but earthier?”

 

You nod, smiling semi-sheepishly. “I mean, I guess, yeah. It’s the best way I can think to describe him.” You drum your fingers across the wooden surface of the bar. “I was there when he picked up the name Tyler, by the way. Some other monster was trying to get his attention by shouting something at him. No idea what it was now, but we both misheard it and thought they said ‘Tyler’, and the name just… stuck.” You laugh lightly. “I remember when he’d get upset, his core would darken, and that was really intimidating. Ha, I’ve _definitely_ been on the wrong end of that. Oh, and when he’d get happy or excited, there’d be little jets of flame that would flare along the lines of his body, even though they normally just glowed. That was always a little funny to watch, since he was normally so composed.

 

“...I don’t really know what else to say. They were my best friends,” you murmur, looking down but smiling as a very faint blush rises in your cheeks.

 

“They sound wonderful,” Grillby tells you, placing a hand near your own without directly touching you, pulling your gaze toward him.

 

You beam. “They really were,” you agree. “And like I said earlier, I really think they would have loved to meet you.”

 

Grillby says nothing in return, but smiles at you and takes your glass to get you a refill. “...What sort of things were you called to do?” he asks over the soft rush of the faucet, back turned to you. He’s still not a fan of handling water all that much, but it’s just the one glass and he doesn’t think drinking more monster alcohol would do you any good, even as an elemental (though he's sure it would affect you a lot differently than it does him, considering what you're both made of). He doesn’t see your expression when you respond, but he senses your brief hesitation.

 

“…Naval warfare, mostly. I sank a lot of ships and turned a lot of tides, both literal and figurative. You shoulda seen me back in the day, I was pretty good.” You wink and smile gratefully when Grillby returns with your glass and you pause to take a quick sip before resuming. You don't notice, however, the quick flash of blue that crosses Grillby’s face after you wink at him.

 

“I was out on the seas a lot, I feel like that goes without saying, but I did sometimes need to come back for whatever reason, usually to the Capital where the royalty was. Wanted to keep an eye on the elementals, I guess. I never came very far inland, and even then, I had to stick mostly to rivers and lakes, water sources that I could use if we got in trouble. But yeah, I was out in the field more often than not.”

 

“What about the others?” Grillby interjects. “You said you were all in one place.”

 

You nod. “Sure,” you agree, “but only sometimes. We all worked out of both that fort and the Capital for the longest time, but we still had to go out and fight for a while, you know? We were together a lot around the time when I was first summoned so they could sorta show me the ropes, I guess, but after that it could be months ‘til we saw each other again, let alone have everyone back in the same place.”

 

“...Yeah, that sounds about right,” he mumbles under his breath.

 

“What did you say?” You quirk an eyebrow as you raise your glass to your lips again. “I didn’t catch that.”

 

Grillby lightly pushes himself off the counter and removes his glasses from his face, using the edge of his apron to wipe the lenses (were they dirty before, you wonder? you hadn’t noticed) and shrugging nonchalantly. “I was just saying that sounds pretty standard for what it was like then. I remember it was pretty hard trying to meet up with anyone since we all moved around so much.”

 

Suddenly, there’s an enormous spitting sound that makes Grillby jump about a foot off the ground (he almost drops his glasses but manages to fumble them back into a better grip) and look at you, staring at him wide-eyed with water occasionally dripping out of your mouth. A sharp spray of the water from your glass is scattered across the wooden surface, somewhat in his direction but mostly angled away towards the floor. He’d laugh at the sight if he had any idea of what was going on (he’s been thinking that a lot lately, he realises absentmindedly).

 

You slam one hand flat against the bar, wiping the back of the other against your mouth roughly and standing almost on top of your seat, all of which inadvertently makes Grillby jolt again. Your pale chromatic pupils, surrounded by deep blue scleras, are downright glimmering with a mixture of shock and glee, as well as just a hint of apprehension.

 

“‘You _remember_ _?_ ’” you exclaim, incredulous. “Grillby, you weren’t _there_ , were you?”

 

He blinks at you owlishly, apparently very confused. “I… Did I not mention it before…?”

 

“ _No ??? ”_ You’re laughing now, a rich and bubbly sound that makes him smile, and Grillby doubts it’s at his expense but he feels a blush creep over him anyway.

 

You’re still chuckling when you finally draw the water you mistakenly sprayed all over the bar out of the wood and absorb it into your hands. “Stars, I should have figured,” you breathe as you sit back down again. “Elementals always kinda seemed like a ‘war only’ sort of thing, but I guess I wouldn’t know otherwise.” You shrug halfheartedly. “I never really got to see what monster society was really like before the war.”

 

Grillby chuckles. “Me neither,” he agrees. You grin and point in his direction as if to say “touché.”

 

So then it becomes your turn to ask him questions: where was _he_ summoned? When? Wait, _he_ had to cross an ocean? How did _that_ go over? What did _he_ do in the war? On and on, back and forth until your eyes pass over the clock on the wall and you have to do a double-take because it’s suddenly reading five in the morning.

 

“Oh wow, it’s really late,” you mumble, running a hand through your trail. Grillby follows your gaze and his eyes widen a fraction too, flicking back to you when you stand from your seat. “I should really get going, huh?” You smile sheepishly at him and take a single step towards the door.

 

“Wait, Shore,” Grillby calls after you, “could I ask one more question? If it’s not too much trouble.”

 

You glance back at him over your shoulder, pondering this. Eventually, you shrug and lean back over the counter, facing him. “Yeah,” you suppose, “one more question couldn’t hurt. What is it, Grillby?” You tilt your head playfully as a smile graces your features.

 

“How did you manage to avoid getting trapped behind the barrier?”

 

You freeze, face stuck halfway in a grin that now looks a bit more like a grimace.

 

“You said the royalty kept you pretty close, like it did all elementals, but that means you should have been among the first to go down.”

 

You don’t have veins, but if you did, they’d be ice by now. Your core is churning in their place.

 

“I mean I’m glad you got out, I wouldn’t wish our banishment on anyone, but I’m--”

 

“I ran,” you mutter under your breath, eyebrows knitting together and eyes facing, but not really seeing, your hands.

 

“--still uncl-- Wait, what?” Grillby stops, finally noticing the abrupt shift in demeanor, your sudden distress unnerving him. Your trail has gone completely still, limp against your back, something he hasn’t seen before and very much does not like.

 

You’re gripping your own forearms so hard your fingers seem to sink into the mostly-solid surface. The words are lodged in your throat and you hate it. Grillby’s gently trying to catch your eye but you refuse to meet his gaze. “I _ran_ ,” you repeat, voice tight. “I was right there, I was going to go under but I _ran_ because I _panicked_ , I was a _coward_ , I’m _sorry_ , I just…” You trail off, unable to continue. You can almost physically feel the guilt, suddenly bubbling, resurfacing, flooding, as it rolls and boils within you.

 

You shut your eyes tight. He’s going to hate you, it didn’t take long for the deep sea monsters to trust you again afterwards but they were running too, he was actually trapped under there with everyone else, there’s no way he won’t hate you, he’s going to tell everyone what you did (or rather, what you _didn’t_ do) and you’re going to have to go back below to avoid them, you can’t ever come up here again, you feel--

 

You feel warm.

 

Or at least, your hands do. You crack one eye open to glance down at them, and would normally jump at the sight were it not for the fear that remains coiled inside you.

 

It’s Grillby’s hand, only separated from your bare surface by the hand towel from before. He’s abnormally warm and solid compared to what you’re used to and it reminds you of where you are right now instead of falling back to where you were a thousand years like you were just threatening to do. It occurs to you, after a moment’s pause, that this is probably what he meant to accomplish.

 

Grillby’s the first to break the silence, though he never stops watching you like a hawk, concerned hues racing through his flames. He sees an old version of himself in you, one that hasn’t dealt with the trauma yet, and he wants to help fix it. “Why are you apologizing, Shore?” he asks you. “I don’t blame you for running away.”

 

You blink and hesitantly pull your eyes up to meet his. They’re intense but soften marginally when he sees you staring back. The two of you stay locked like this for a long while until you regain control of yourself. In the meantime, you search his face thoroughly, looking for any sign of mistrust or hate or anything else, even going so far as so check his intent of all things, you know you have to be right, there’s no way… but you’re wrong. There’s just concern, honesty, and a steadfastness you find rather comforting right now.

 

You open and close your mouth several times in your attempts to say something, anything, though everything refuses to come out. “...How?” you finally manage to whisper, “I-- I _abandoned_ you, how could--”

 

His grip on your hands becomes stronger and you fall silent. “A lot of us did things we regret, especially in the war,” he says quietly, so quietly you almost have to strain to hear, “but there’s no use in spending all this energy on wishing you could change it.” He says it so firmly you feel like you have to believe him. It almost sounds like he’s reciting lines, like the words were once said back to him and he’s been repeating it for years. “You running made sure you got out safe and that’s what matters most. The rest of us made it out just fine. And honestly,” he squints at you, teasing now, “I think not getting trapped behind an incredibly powerful magical barrier for a thousand years isn’t something you should regret all that much.”

 

You laugh despite your sorry state. It’s a warm feeling, one that matches the warmth against your hands and pushes your trail back into motion, much to Grillby’s relief. “Sorry,” you murmur, managing a small smile for him.

 

He withdraws his hand and the towel. You fight the tiny shiver that threatens to crawl down your back from the absence. “Don’t apologize. I understand,” he tells you. His flames grow ever so slightly brighter when he sees you stand taller and resume a somewhat normal position, still leaning over the counter, but more hanging out against it rather than hanging off of it.

 

“...Thank you.” You straighten your goggles at the top of your head. “Really, I... thank you.”

 

“You’re more than welcome, Shore.”

 

“...Kind of a downer of a note to end on, huh?” you huff softly, rubbing at the back of your neck with a grin.

 

Grillby gives a quiet chuckle and it warms you to your core. “Well then, I suppose you’ll just have to come back soon and end on a better note to compensate, won’t you?”

 

You grin, padding softly towards the door with nothing but happiness left on your face. “Yeah,” you agree, “I suppose I will.”

 

And with that, you walk out of the restaurant and into the early morning dawn, feeling better and lighter than you have in a thousand years.

 

Thanks, Grillby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this counts as hurt/comfort, right? maybe? i actually have no idea? i am not a remarkably experienced writer, but i think i'm doing ok so far lol  
> lemme know in the comments what yall thought of this chapter, and if you have suggestions for what the next chapter should be about, write that too! i'll be sure to consider it :D
> 
> come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://ominousbears.tumblr.com/) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ominousbears) ✌


	4. A Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished guests, this is your captain speaking  
> i couldn't resist, we're already in the war stuff lol (disclaimer: i don't really know what ninja has planned for oof's war chapters or how exactly elementals work, so there's a lot of liberties taken here. like. a LOT of liberties. if you're reading this in the future and it doesn't turn out to be completely accurate to canon, that's why lol)  
> i love u all very much and i hope u have a marvelous day wherever u are <3
> 
> slight body horror tw near the end of parts 3 and 4

Your summoning goes something like this.

A handful of monster mages each take their places around the still pool of water. It’s illuminated by the moonlight falling through the jagged hole in the cavern’s ceiling, but the light falls only a short distance into the water before turning pitch dark again. It’s precisely the sort of place they had been looking for. Everyone in the room stands an equal distance apart as they go over last minute preparations under their breaths. Some of the younger, less experienced mages squirm nervously until another monster nudges them and they have to refocus.

Three sets of footfalls echo along the walkway into the cavern and what little whispering existed before vanishes as a large, old toad monster enters, guided by a Loox and a Pyrope at each arm.

The leader of the mages, a lithe spider monster, takes his hand in two of hers. “Thank you, old friend,” she breathes, eyes glassy with tears, “we will not forget this.” He nods silently, grateful and accepting. She gently urges the smaller monsters out of the chamber and retakes her position at the middle of the pool’s edge with him at her side, still holding his hand. A deep breath taken, a brief glance at their volunteer given, and the head mage raises all four of her remaining arms and signals the other mages to begin.

There’s a palpable thrum of magic that bursts in the room. Focused intent gathers and holds, and everyone reaches with their Souls into the place where they know spirits reside, further and further, until something reacts. Connects. The monsters pull together as one, the way they’ve practiced so many times before, and the spirit follows easily. The pool bubbles and churns below them.

The leader peers back at the toad monster and gives a solemn nod. He returns it and closes his eyes, releasing a deep sigh that sends his body crumbling slowly into dust. His friend’s Soul clenches in her chest as she extends her hands, the hands that had just held his, towards the white inverted heart that remains. Gently bringing it over to float above the pool, the head mage pushes the magic of the boss monster Soul at the same time that the others pull the spirit forward. It follows, they all feel it react, connect, and then the boss Soul pulses a blinding white-blue and soars into the center of the pool, diving in with a near-silent splash and disappearing below the darkness.

All at once, the mages’ connection to both of them snap and the water halts, a perfect stillness radiating from the center outward. Everyone is frozen, holding their breaths, for several very long seconds. Just as the leader’s Soul begins to sink in her chest, thinking they failed and that her dearest friend gave his Soul in vain, the pool’s surface trembles.

…

Below the surface of the water in this inky darkness, you find yourself suddenly… you. You are your own being, existing here… but where is “here?” Something catches in the corner of your eye and you shift your attention that way to find a glimmer of light above you, shifting and warping in the distance. You start to move towards it and whatever it is that’s surrounding you moves alongside you, pushing forward, forward, _forward_ \--

Until your head breaks the pool’s surface and you see the moon shining high above you, outlined by dark sky and jagged stone, and you think it looks beautiful. Several soft, delighted gasps and intakes of breath tell you you’re not alone and you pull your gaze down to get a better sense of what it is.

Turns out, it’s many creatures: monsters, you realise. They’re standing over you as the moonlight reflects and refracts on the rough walls behind them. Some stare down at you in awe, others in satisfaction, and one right in the middle with relief. She’s tall, you think. You want to be that tall. Willing yourself upward, you rise out of the water and use your arms to push against the firm surface of the water (much to the surprise of those around you, which you don’t quite understand) until you can bring your legs up and stand fully. It looks like you’re only a third as tall as her, maybe even less, but hey, it’s better than nothing.

The spider monster speaks first, extending all six of her hands to you. You hesitate for a moment but take one of them. “Hello, little one,” she says warmly, earning a scoff from one of the eldest mages (she shouldn’t be this _nice_ to it, they grumble, she’s _always_ too nice, it’s going to make them _soft_ ) which she promptly ignores. “I am Arranha, a mage of the monsters, and you, my dear, are what we call an elemental: a being of that which makes up this world.” Her other hands all gently move to the one she’s already holding. She watches you intently, five eyes reflecting in the moonlight. “We have summoned you here because monsters are in danger,” she grips your hand tighter as you blink, “and _you_ are going to help us. You’re going to have to fight alongside us, protect us, make it so we survive to see another day.”

The spider monster-- no, Arranha, leans in a little closer, eyes gleaming. “Are you ready to serve your people and fight for the sake of all monsterkind, little one?” she asks quietly with urgency and determination in her voice.

It takes you a minute to respond. You pull your gaze from hers and stare silently at the moon, full and bright and shining, through the hole in the ceiling. It gives you comfort and assures you this will be okay as it casts its light down softly upon you, reflecting against your watery face.

You look back down at the spider monster still holding your hand and you nod.

Perhaps she _is_ too nice to the elementals she helps summon, regardless of whether she’s the leader in the effort or not. Perhaps she _is_ being soft on you. But when you look up at her with those big, dark blue eyes marked by pupils the same color of her oldest, dearest friend’s Soul, Arranha can’t help but feel so much hope for you and for monsterkind.

* * *

 

Meeting your best friends goes something like this.

Ever since your summoning about three weeks ago, you’ve been following Arranha around like a lost puppy wherever she goes. She thinks it’s funny, the way you look up at her with rapt attention and hang off of her every word, but her fellow mages certainly do not agree. Unfortunately for them, there’s been a mixup somewhere along the line and there’s no one other her that has the time or ability to teach you what you need to know as an elemental.

Well, until today.

You’re standing across from Arranha as she instructs you on shaping your water magic. You can manifest it from yourself and control other bodies of it just fine, but when she asks you to manipulate its form in any way, you fall short. You’re trying again at the spider monster’s insistence.

“You’re trying too hard, dear,” she frowns. “Just imagine the form you want your magic to take, but don’t force it there.” You nod and concentrate again, the short trail at the back of your head fluttering.

You aim for an arrow this time, picturing the fine edge on the point, the smooth wooden finish of the shaft, the pattern on the fletching. Something stirs in the water you’re holding and--

A voice cuts through the air. “Arranha!”

Your focus cracks. The hold you have on the water slips and it splashes into the ground uselessly. You let out a small noise of frustration, your teacher sighs heavily, and both of you turn to face the newcomer looking more sour than normal.

It’s a white dog monster, maybe a little bit taller than you are now (which isn’t saying much since you’re still pretty short), fidgeting under the weight of your stares. “I- uh- sorry if I interrupted you,” they apologize, “but, um, Yetu asked me to get you? He wants to talk?” A short fluffy tail pokes out from underneath their armor and wags nervously behind them.

Arranha clicks her tongue disdainfully. “Of course he does, but stars only know what he wants now,” she grumbles under her breath, crossing the short distance to you and resting two hands on your head. “Stay here, little one, I’ll be back in a second. Maybe try to work on that shape again, hm? You were awfully close last time.”

“Yes, Arranha,” you murmur haltingly; you’re still learning how to form words and sentences yourself even if you understand them well enough coming from others, so your speech is a little rough.

“Lovely.” She faces the dog monster again and steps to their side, giving them a short head pat. “Well, shall we?” Looking cheerier now that they’ve been pet, they guide her away from you to wherever Yetu is.

You huff loudly and sit down on the ground, back resting against a nearby post. Summoning more water is simple enough but trying to form that arrow again yields no results. Maybe something else then? You close your eyes and picture a sword instead, as long as your arm and wicked sharp, blade gleaming in the sunlight.

Your magic stirs again and when you close your fist, it wraps around something firm but still shifting. Did… did you do it? Using one eye, you peek carefully but both eyes fly wide open and you give a loud cheer when you see that yes, you did do it; there’s a vague shortsword sitting in your grasp. It’s wobbly as hell and wouldn’t hurt any humans, but it’s definitely something.

“Nice job, shorty!”

In a curious case of déjà vu, you yelp and the shape splatters across the dirt. You whip around to look at whoever spoke but you scramble to stand up as you finally lay eyes on them casually leaning against the post with arms crossed.

She looks exactly like that dark grey thunderhead you saw your first week and when she roars with laughter at your expression, she certainly sounds like it too: a rumbling boom that you felt in your core. Thin bolts of purple lightning flash brightly through every part of her core and you watch them stretch back through her long, bumpy trail until they disappear. Something instinctually tells you she’s an elemental like you, and your Soul hums.

It’s now that she finally notices you staring and leans forward, catching your dark blue eyes with her shimmering purple ones. “What, do I have something on my face?” she grins. You just blink silently. Her smirk falls into something more sincere as she reaches out and gently nudges your arm. A faint spark jumps from her surface to yours and you flinch again. “Really though, that was good. You look as small as I was when I was getting a grip on my element.” She pauses for a second and looks you over. “How long ago were you summoned, kid?”

“Um. Three weeks.” You wince internally, cursing your weak speech. The last thing you want to do is look stupid in front of the first elemental you meet.

She hums thoughtfully, slightly surprised, and stands to her full height _oh stars she’s taller than you thought_. She opens her mouth to speak but turns when someone yells. “What?” she calls back loudly. A new figure approaches and playfully punches her arm.

“I _said_ , what are you doing Faith, we have to meet with the fire dude to see what’s up with our assignments.” He glances at you, then has to do a double-take as his mouth widens into a grin. “Oh, I didn’t see you there!”

It’s _another_ elemental. He looks similar to the other one (Faith?) but where she’s dark like a storm at night, he’s bright like a clear morning sky, pale colors mixing throughout his surface. He doesn’t have as much of a trail as her but what little he does stays so close that his whole head looks like a cloud.

Two elementals in less than five minutes. You think this might just be the best day of your life.

Snickering, he elbows Faith in the side. “Aw, are you making frieeends? I’m so proud of you!” Sky blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he pokes her.

She groans in irritation, fighting a smile. Lightning arcs faster across her arms. “You are insufferable, I swear.” She shakes her head and gestures to you, frozen in place and openly staring. “I saw her trying to form her magic and I got curious. Liam, she’s only three weeks and she’s already got a decent sword.”

Liam’s eyes widen and he glances back to you. “Really?” Your head dips in a tentative nod. Intrigued, he puts a hand to his chin and watches you with an intense look. “Will you do it again? I could tell you what’s going wrong.”

It’s easier to manipulate your magic this time since you’ve already successfully done it once before, so the result is a slightly less wobbly sword. You beam up at the two of them, obviously proud of your work as you hold the blade out in front of you. Liam however looks critical for a moment before snapping quietly, realising something. “You’re trying to form it with magic?”

You nod.

“ _Just_ magic?”

You hesitate but nod again slowly.

It’s Faith who speaks up this time, waving her hand. “Nah, nah, you can’t do that. That’s the monsters’ way of doing it. Elementals have to connect more to the actual element; for you, that’s water.”

Your face scrunches in confusion. “But I _am._ Connecting to it.”

“The magic’s holding it, sure,” Liam counters, “but you’re made of water and it is, too. When we connect to existing versions of our element, it becomes an extension of us, like a third arm. It’s the same as pulling from yourself except there’s no extension. It’s just you.” He lays a hand flat against his chest and taps it. “You’re thinking with your Soul too much. You need to feel it in your core and guide it with magic, but magic can’t be the main factor. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Nerd,” whispers Faith, snickering under her breath. He elbows her but otherwise doesn’t respond, attention fixed on you.

You release a frustrated sigh and begin to pull water from yourself like normal, but you stop. He’s right. This is a tug on your Soul, magic taking the shape of water because that’s what you want it to be. You need to feel it in your core.

You reach further, past your Soul into what you understand to be your core though you don’t have a great sense of it yet. Imagining that same sword, you shut your eyes tight and pull hard, willing its shape into your hand. Something stirs like your magic had, but this feels stronger. It resists until you remember to guide it with your magic, and then it comes easily. Just one firm tug and a weight drops into your palm.

“And there you go,” Liam approves.

“Damn, already? Took me like a week to get mine down once I figured it out!” Faith whines.

Your eyes fly open and you feel so proud you think your Soul might burst when there in your hand sits a very defined shortsword, as long as your arm and wicked sharp, blade gleaming in the sunlight. It’s exactly as you imagined it.

“Oh my stars, dear, look at you!” Your face breaks into the widest smile with pointed teeth on full display as Arranha strides over, all hands clasped together excitedly. She’s followed by a small group of other monsters but you won’t focus on that right now.

“Arranha, I did it!” Your voice cracks terribly through the shout but you don’t care, you just hold your sword (that _you_ created!) out to show her. She opens her mouth to respond but a new, deeper voice you don’t recognise cuts her off.

“Good work, elemental.” It comes from a huge monster that towers over you, taller than any you’ve seen before. You distantly realise he’s a Knight Knight, but that’s not important right now. He gazes down at you passively, neutral and uncaring. It’s disquieting. “You see, Arranha,” he rumbles, “it doesn’t need your assistance anymore. It’s learning just fine with the others.”

The spider monster exhales sharply and presses a hand to one temple in irritation. “Yetu, that’s not the point, you know that.”

“It is. Asgore has requested that all elementals be moved to the Capital for assessment and assignment. You have no reason to keep this one here.”

“ _She’s three weeks old_.”

“And has already formed a sturdy blade, far sooner than others before it,” Yetu retorts stonily. “It is ready. All elementals at this camp _will_ be moved at dawn, and this one _will_ go as well, with or without your approval, Arranha.”

She glares up at him, even as he turns and stalks back to wherever he came from. The dog monster from earlier follows right at his heels, but one figure remains, standing a short distance away.

 _Stars above, is that_ another _elemental?_

It has to be. He’s taller than even Faith (why is literally everyone you meet today so much taller than normal) and might be just as dark but you can’t tell from here. Thick reddish-orange lines run along his arms and face, glowing all the way up through the top of his head until it breaks off jaggedly and turns into dark red flame that billows outward. He blinks at you once with orange eyes that glow with a soft, warm light before Faith and Liam run over to him and steal his attention. That’s fine, you have someone else you need to see anyway.

You carefully approach Arranha, still glaring at Yetu’s distant back, and you drop your sword. It dissolves into mist as you take one of her hands in both of yours. Her head whips down towards you, standing no taller than her hip but gazing up with so much understanding and empathy. She crouches down and wordlessly wraps all five remaining arms around you in the best hug of your life.

It’s bittersweet leaving your first mentor, but only hours into the march the next day, Faith noogies Liam so hard that his cloud puffs up to twice its size and even though you try very hard to hold it in, it’s not long before all four of you are doubled over from the force of your uproarious laughter. Some older monsters yell at you, you apologize even if you only half-mean it, and for a full two days afterward the smile won’t fade.

You think you’ll be just fine if you get to stay with these monsters.

* * *

 

Finally using the power you were called forth to wield goes something like this.

It takes months and months of near-constant training before you get shipped out for your first major campaign against the humans. By that point, you’ve already done every possible exercise, course, and test a thousand times over. You’ve even fought against some actual humans on your way to and from outlying forts; you've got experience to say the least, not even mentioning your elemental abilities.

They make you wait an unbearably long time, but a messenger finally comes to you late one night. You screech so loudly with sheer joy that it wakes two other elementals in the barracks adjacent to you and they glare with a forcefulness that immediately silences you, flushing an embarrassed indigo.

It comes as no surprise that you’re made part of the naval campaign, breaking the humans’ offensive lines and assisting the much-needed coastal supply runs, so that’s where you find yourself a few months later in the middle of a perimeter sweep: sailing through a horribly dense mist aboard a gigantic brigantine ship, leaning dangerously far over its bow above the still open ocean lit only by the full moon. This feeling never gets old. Crisp, salty air flows gently across your face, you hear the smooth lapping of waves against the ship’s hull, and you feel more immersed in your element than you ever have before. Well, until you’re snapped out of it.

“Elemental!”

The sharp bark makes you flinch hard and almost throws you overboard but you snap to attention and face the captain of this ship. They’re a blue-green fish monster, short and stocky and always wearing an intense scowl. You’d only met them once before this, but you know deep in your Soul that Captain Kioné is not to be trifled with.

“Yes, Captain?” you ask innocently, still perched a third of the way along the bowsprit. Your scuffed silver armor glints in the moonlight as you fight the urge to shift uncomfortably.

“What are you doing?” Their tone is curt and impatient, moreso than usual. Are they still upset that you can’t disperse the mist? You thought they got over that this afternoon.

“Um. Trying to look out for anything unusual?” It’s not a complete lie; you really had come up here to scout, you just got a little distracted by the ocean. ...Okay, very distracted.

Kioné crosses their arms. “You picked a poor location for that. Did you forget we have a crow’s nest?”

Yes. “No.” They scoff at you under their breath. A prickling feeling creeps up the back of your neck and you rub at it absentmindedly. It’s been doing this all day and you don’t understand why. Something just doesn’t feel right but you can’t put your finger on it. “Sorry, Captain. I’ll go now.” You carefully turn in place on the bowsprit and shimmy back down, hopping off with a quiet _clang_ of metal hitting wood.

“Good. Try not to slack off this time, elem--” They stop suddenly, ear fins twitching.

“Capt--?”

They quickly raise a hand, silencing you. “Did you hear that?” they hiss.

“Hear wh--”

Both of you stagger as something huge crashes into the ship’s hull on its starboard side, sending the entire boat shuddering several feet to the right as you face stern. Ocean spray cascades down over the main deck. What was that?! It sounded big, but you should have seen something that big, what--

The mist. You couldn’t see through the mist and someone’s hiding in it.

Kioné realises this too but wastes no time at all jumping straight past you onto the stairs that run below deck, yelling, “Elemental! Take care of their ships! If they come aboard, launch them out to sea!”

“Yes, Captain!” you shout as you sprint past startled crew to starboard and peer over the side. You _knew_ it; below you sits a short schooner, wedged into the hull. Several of the humans aboard it begin to fling ropes and grappling hooks but one spots you and shouts loudly, pointing in your direction. You gasp and jump back as suddenly the hooks are flying towards you. You need to sink their ship before they can get on yours. You reach through your Soul and core into the ocean below to connect, but you can’t get ahold of it, the water just won’t listen to you. Why isn’t it listening to you?

You don’t have time to think about it because suddenly there’s a flash of metal in your peripheral and you duck just as a blade swipes overhead. Scrambling to your feet, you jerk a shortsword out of your core and just barely parry another blow. Another monster jumps in and kicks the human to the ground, and you dart back over to the bow. You reach for the water again, further this time, urging it to connect, connect, c’mon, please, just _connect_!

You’re nearly thrown off your feet when another ship collides with the brigantine portside and it’s just the disturbance the rest of the humans need to climb over the starboard rail and rush you and the crew, weapons drawn and gleaming dangerously.

“ _Elemental_!” Kioné yells, charging up from below to meet the humans now boarding portside, “We’ve got a breach in the hull, I need you to keep the water out!”

“I can’t!” you scream as you dodge and parry, barely glancing blows each time.

“What do you mean, _‘you can’t_?!’”

“There’s too much of it, I can’t connect!”

“This crew’s life depends on you right now, girl, you’d best try again!”

So you reach and you _reach_ , but your magic can only do _so much_ , you’re not--!

Pain floods your core and you shriek as a human gouges your arm. It’s not working! “I can’t do this much, I can’t reach that far!”

“You’re going to have to, or we _all_ go down!” Kioné roars. An errant blade strikes through her side and she grunts in pain. “Just do it!”

“I’m trying, _I’m trying_!!”

“Don’t think, just _DO_ !” You grit your teeth and with monumental effort, you lunge out with your Soul, your core, one final time and you **_heave_ **\--

The ocean erupts like a geyser underneath the humans’ ships and it sends them soaring into the sky far beyond your vision. You reach downwards and feel the waves surging below deck, but these waters are all an extension of you, so you clench one fist tight and wrench it back with all your might. The hold evacuates in less than a second, and you _pull_ against the heavy ocean to keep it from going back in.

You hear a strangled yell on your left and dodge just as a longsword slices down into the wood. The ocean’s power still rushing through your core, you swing hard and a pillar of water slams into your attacker and catapults him overboard into the sea. The other humans, watching this display of pure power, turn tail and abandon ship but none of them make it far; handfuls at a time, you launch every last one into the dark water until, finally, the deck is clear.

You have to keep holding the ocean at bay until the crew can apply some rudimentary repairs to the hull, but as soon as it’s done, you drop the connection.

Too much, too much… you stagger and almost fall, but catch yourself on the shrouds at the last second, closing your eyes and breathing hard. Kioné stands over you, arms crossed. Their scowl is present as always, but they look impressed regardless. “That was good fighting, elemental.”

You crack one eye open. “Coulda been worse, yeah,” you pant. “‘S the first time I’ve tapped into that much. Forgot to pace myself. Went too far.”

“And?”

“And I’m exhausted. It _sucks_.”

Kioné lets out a bark of laughter and claps you so hard on the back you almost pitch forward as they walk away. “Just go get some rest. You deserve it, ele…” They stop for a moment, sigh, and throw you a half-smile over their shoulder. “Shore,” they correct. You beam at them but they roll their eyes and keep walking.

With a heavy sigh, you lean over the rails of the quarterdeck at stern and gaze out over the ocean. You’re not connected to it anymore, but you remember feeling all of its power, all of its strength at _your command_ , and you get a good feeling that maybe, with power like that, monsters might just have a chance in this war.

* * *

 

Except your feeling was wrong. The monsters have lost horribly, the humans have won and in a war like this, it’s winner take all.

Your desertion goes something like this.

You’d always wanted to travel further inland to see what was there, but this isn’t how you wanted to do it. You stand now at the base of a huge mountain, dressed as always in your severely scratched and dented silver armor and surrounded by monsters both soldier and civilian. Never in all your life have you seen anything this tall and intimidating; it stretches so far above you that it covers part of the sun and casts a long shadow over half the field. Perhaps on a different day you would’ve been able to appreciate this more, but today, when the sky is dark grey and overcast and the air is thick with tension and fear… today it just makes you nervous.

You hear a sharp, indignant cry (unintelligible in the human tongue) from the front of the crowd where King Asgore and his innermost circle stand, making you and about half of the monsters around you turn abruptly. You’re fairly far away, standing close to a rear outside edge, so unfortunately you see nothing. A tired sigh falls from your lips and your shoulders drop an inch as monsters relax again. You absently wonder, irritated, how long they’re going to make you stand here and wait patiently for their sentence.

You’re only left wondering for one, two, three beats of your Soul before you get your answer.

The sound of an explosion shatters the stillness in the air and everyone flinches reflexively. One of the humans has stepped forth and holds their hands out towards the sky. You snap to attention in a second, hand moving to the hilt of your shortsword at your side. They shout again in that strange human tongue and for once, you’re kicking yourself for not trying to learn it earlier. You can’t understand a single word but you still watch closely, looking for any signs of overt aggression from the humans.

It’s a long speech. You shift your shoulders, trying to ease out some of the tension, but it just makes your armor clink and grind against itself. Your core churns with anxiety.

Finally, after what seems like a century has passed, they fall silent and gesture to their side. You tense and wait for some kind of attack, but there is none. Instead, six more mages step up beside them. You blink and all of them have raised their hands skyward. There’s barely a second to question what they’re doing and then suddenly there’s so much magic, harsh and oppressive and unmistakably _human_ , pouring over you and it sends your head spinning. Your trail jolts and flicks erratically along your back, low and betraying your fear.

Without warning, the wave of magic swells and rises up like a tsunami, overwhelming and powerful. You can barely hear the monsters crying out in fear next to you over the intense buzzing in your head. You’re downright _horrified_ , panicked thoughts racing through your mind faster than you can keep up with them. Your Soul seizes in your chest and you feel sick.

The sun’s light dims and every monster looks up to see a giant, multicolored disc expanding across the sky, sparking wildly as it grows. And then your Soul plummets down to the lowest depths of your core as you realise.

This is a wall. They’re going to trap you down here and this imposing mountain will be your prison and your grave.

Your eyes dart to your right, half expecting to find your friends (your _closest_ friends, practically your _only_ friends) but knowing you won’t. You haven’t seen them in months, and even as this wall spreads like ice across a pond above your head, you have no idea where they are. They could be dust for all you know, scattered on some distant plain with no one to collect their remains. But maybe, you think, maybe they’re fine, they got away (a drop of jealousy runs through you despite your best efforts to quash it), and _maybe_ , if you’re _just_ lucky enough, you could get out too before--

You jump a full six inches off the ground when a furry hand suddenly grabs yours. It’s a cat monster you’ve never met before in your life, a civilian probably, and they try to give you a reassuring smile but it doesn’t quite work because they look terrified too. They probably took your hand for their sake more than your own, you think. The two of you share a silent look for one long moment before turning back to face forward once more. Neither of you let go, even as your core rolls sickeningly.

A loud _bang!_ erupts from somewhere off to your left and it sends fear and distress rocketing through the entire crowd, yourself included. Frantic whispers ripple past you. _That can’t be good, what’s going on, are the humans attacking us again?_ In that moment you start panicking again, breaths coming short and fast, but they catch in your throat and your Soul drops when movement flashes out of the corner of your eye in the opposite direction of the noise.

It’s _monsters_ . They’re running and stumbling, barrelling towards the distant treeline with the brief hope of getting away, and suddenly that same hope flashes through you too. You’re an elemental, you have a better chance of making it than them (a wave of disgust surges through you), you could _do this_. You take half a step and freeze as one of the human mages not casting the barrier barks a series of strange, harsh words and two more go to follow the fleeing monsters. Deadly magic you’ve fought a thousand times over coalesces in their hands as they move and you almost reconsider running. But your eyes flick up to the lower edge of the barrier, less than twenty feet from the ground and crawling downwards at a snail’s pace but never ever stopping or slowing.

You have to go _now_.

You make it another two steps before something pulls on your wrist. You whip around and your eyes widen when you see the civilian cat monster still gripping your hand tight. They’re staring back at you with anguish and disbelief in their eyes, wordlessly begging what you’re doing. Your throat clenches painfully as you hoarsely whisper one very soft

“I’m sorry.”

And you loosen the definition on your hand just enough to slip out of the gauntlet still in their grasp before turning and sprinting towards the treeline with the other monsters. You don’t look back, even as that same human mage lets out a loud shout just before you disappear into the foliage.

In this moment, you thank all the gods in the heavens above you have all the extra energy and magic that comes with being an elemental. You’re practically flying through the trees, passing another monster every once in a while and trying so, so hard not to hear their cries as they fall behind. Every time a blast of human magic erupts behind you, you struggle to keep in a strangled sob. They’re getting closer and you’re panicking more, you have to outrun these mages. You _know_ one of the larger rivers runs through here, if you can just find it, you can ride it all the way out to the ocean and _then_ _you’ll be safe, you just have to find it!_

There it is! The roar of whitewater currents hits you and your Soul soars. It sounds deeper in the earth than you remember, coursing through the bottom of these cliffs, but it’s so close already and getting closer by the second so you take a running leap and freefall straight into it and you feel _so relieved_ \--

A horrible, pained shriek rips through the air, startling you. Where did that come from? You thought you were the only one that jumped! Dread pulses grossly through your core but you don’t have time to consider it any further before you hit the river currents with a painful smack and you’re ripped away by the tumultuous waters. It’s moving so fast, too fast for you to think, let alone do anything, so you go limp and let it carry you as far away as it wants.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, drifting in and out of panicked awareness as your core aches and burns. It’s only much later that you realise you should be urging the water to go faster. Why didn’t you think of it sooner? You reach out with your Soul but… you can’t reach far enough to connect. You’re _exhausted_ , physically and magically. But that doesn’t make sense, you’ve used much more power in the past than you did today and you didn’t get tired then, so what is it?

The river spits you out into the ocean after what seems like an eternity but instead of floating through the water levelly, you’re _sinking_ and you can’t pull yourself up, _and what’s going on?_

But then you finally, finally look down after who knows how long, and you understand.

Ah. There’s a giant earthen spike sticking about a foot through the front of your armor, metal peeled back to expose it. One of the mages must have speared you with it as you fell off the cliff. That must have been you who shrieked. The runes embedded in your armor that always kept you light on the ocean must have been destroyed as it hit you. This must be what’s been causing that aching, burning feeling in your core this whole time. You must be…

Your eyes roll back into your head and you go unconscious, sinking deeper and deeper below the churning waves.

…

You don’t die. Not yet. But it’s a close thing.

The monsters of the deep sea are the ones to find you falling slowly into their territory, and they almost attack the intruder until they see your grievous injury, your unmoving form, your sickly dimming Soul, and they take you in. You’re healed without a problem, though it’s a long and delicate process, and are left with no scars other than the ones you already had. Your armor has to be discarded; you didn’t notice it, dazed as you were, but your long journey along the river smashed and destroyed it beyond repair as you collided with rock and stone. You loved that armor, you think sadly. The only thing you have left from the monsters on the surface is the pair of darkvision goggles strapped to your head, miraculously unharmed.

It hurts.

Yet time heals all wounds, slowly but surely as you learn over the next centuries. You come to enjoy the company of the deep sea monsters, though you still swim closer and closer to the surface every year on your way back from the southern waters. One year, your group even intersects with another for the first time since you've been with them and you talk avidly with one of the mermaids who says she’s learned the language of humans. She tells you about the young ones she’s seen, the old ones she’s _spoken_ with, and your outlook on humans shifts. It takes a while, but it does. You promise to meet in the same spot again next year. You’re hesitant to ask her, but she eagerly teaches the language to you too when you finally work up the nerve. The question of how she learned it in the first place only comes to you long after you’ve gone north again.

Your guilt over abandoning the monsters rolls heavy within your core for a very, very long time.

But then, a thousand years later, when you finally work up the courage to go ashore for the first time since then and the very first living thing you see on those beaches is an old, wizened _turtle monster_ …

The guilt doesn’t weigh quite as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://ominousbears.tumblr.com/) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ominousbears) ✌


	5. An Escapade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again!! i hope everyone's holidays are going well!! apologies for the wait, i had to do a bunch of holiday stuff too, plus i had final exams the week before :/// but!! here it is now!! enjoy!!  
> comments and feedback always appreciated!!  
> 

A few weeks after you and Grillby’s little talk, you find yourself seated once more at one of the barstools in his restaurant. You’re finding yourself there quite a bit lately, you realize as you idly run one finger around the rim of a half-empty glass while Undyne and Frisk laugh about something off to your right. Your trail drifts lazily behind you, passing slowly from shoulder to shoulder. These trips to the surface are good, though. Your hand comes to a halt and you glance up at the sound of another small group of customers entering. Grillby sees them too and swipes a few menus from their stack as he strides out from behind the bar to deliver a tray of drinks to another table.

Yeah. This is good.

The thought stops when Frisk hops down from their stool and Undyne follows, both of them grinning widely. “What’s got you two looking so excited?” you ask with a smile of your own.

Frisk beams and picks up their bag from the floor. It looks like they’ve got a towel, some sunglasses, and something labelled “sunscreen” in there. “Undyne heard some people at work talking about an event at the beach today and we’re gonna go check it out! Plus, swimming just sounds really good right now. You wanna come with?”

You mull this over for a second. You  _ had _ just been thinking about how you’re here at Grillby’s more often than not. Maybe it would be good for you to hang out somewhere else for a change, see a little more of this town. “Yeah, sure!” you reply, draining the rest of your glass. The dark color of the liquid floods your head and shoulders as you stand up, just like any of the other drinks you’ve ever had here.

A flicker appears at the edge of your vision and you turn to watch Grillby resume his place behind the bar, looking back at you with a questioning tilt to his head. You point a thumb back over your shoulder at Undyne and Frisk, who are now standing close to the door. “They invited me to go down to the beach with them for some event,” you explain.

Without thinking, you reach forward like you’re going to rest your hand on his, the way you’ve done with other monsters when saying goodbye. But before you can get close, the natural crackling and snapping of his flames makes you pause and your trail stutters with the realization. Jeez, what were you thinking? You’d steam like hell and you can’t imagine it would be great for him either. An image of the small firebird from a few weeks ago brushing the edge of your trail immediately comes to mind and you barely suppress a wince. No, you really shouldn’t touch him, especially not with bare hands.

Instead, you set that hand down on the countertop and use the other to push your now empty glass toward him. Smooth. You feel an indigo blush rise to your cheeks and you’re suddenly very thankful the fading colors of your drink are dark enough to mask it. “But, uh, I’ll be back later, okay?” You give him a wide smile and a wave before heading out alongside the two waiting for you.

...

The walk down to the shore isn’t that long, even if Undyne’s near-constant complaints about the heat would imply otherwise. But when you finally step off the boardwalk and onto the hot sand, you think it may be a little while longer before you can actually get in the water. Frisk keeps declaring that they’ve found the perfect spot, confident of their choice. But as soon as you start to help Undyne set up her stuff they’re suddenly calling your names from thirty feet to the left, pointing at a new space they like better than the last. They relocate three more times before Undyne flops down onto the sand and refuses to budge.

“Kid, I’m not gonna move no matter how hard you pull,” she groans, roughly wiping at her forehead as Frisk tugs at her other arm. “It’s just too hot out here.” They make a little noise of frustration but let go anyway, dropping their bag onto the sand with a light  _ pof _ .

You put down a pair of towels next to Undyne and nudge Frisk’s arm with your own. They have to squint against the sun’s glare when they look up at you. Sunlight refracts on their face through parts of your trail. “Hey, we came down to the beach to swim, right?” They nod and you give them a playful grin. “Doesn’t look like you’re doing much swimming.”

Frisk giggles and starts running. “Race you down to the water!” they call over their shoulder.

You swear you can hear the spark in Undyne’s eye flash for a second. She snaps upright and leaps to her feet, sending a cloud of sand into the air and making you jump. As exhausted as she looked before, you’d never guess she was still tired now as she sprints after the human, yelling “Is that a challenge, punk!?”

You snicker under your breath and take a moment to make sure all of their things are together before standing up and making your way down to the water’s edge. In the distance, Frisk waves their arms so you can see where they and Undyne are. Your trail flicks in surprise. Oh man, they’re kind of far out, aren’t they? Especially for the little time it took you to rearrange. You didn’t know they could swim that fast (well, Undyne you’re not surprised about, but Frisk catches you off guard). Oh well, you can get over to them pretty quickly anyway.

A few yards from the shoreline, you break out into a run and dive straight into the ocean. It surrounds you completely, and it’s a good, familiar feeling. Even after all this time, it never gets old. Taking control of the water just around you is easy enough (you’ve spent a long time teaching yourself how to isolate your magic like this), so you push off the sandbar and shoot through the waves, propelled by magic.

It’s only a matter of seconds before you resurface between Undyne and Frisk with a low  _ splish _ .  Both of them jerk away and stare at you. You just blink back as a small smile stretches across your face and your trail coasts along the water’s surface. There’s a beat of silence, save for the gentle crashing of waves on the shoreline behind you, before Frisk throws their fist into the air with a grin. “Man, that was great! You were  _ so _ fast!” They bump Undyne’s shoulder, making her look back at them questioningly. “I know you beat me in  _ our _ race, but there’s no way you could beat  _ her _ ,” they tease.

Undyne immediately lets out a loud bark of laughter and rounds on you. You squeak quietly and flinch backwards as she towers over you, a devilish, toothy smile stretching across her face. “Shore. Race me,” she demands. Man, you kind of forget how intimidating she can be sometimes.

“Um. I don’t know, I, uh…”

“‘You, uh’ what??”

“I mean, I can go really, really fast in water?” you explain sheepishly, trail gathering and condensing around your head. “I just don’t think it would be fair?”

Frisk laughs from off to the side and suddenly that spark in Undyne’s eye is back again. She grins wider. “Then race me and prove it.”

Wow, she’s really not going to back down, is she? Somehow you’re not surprised.

You sigh and sag a little lower in the water. “Fine,” you mutter, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She pumps her fist into the air and cheers, bobbing a little in the water with the motion.

You roll your eyes and squint out toward the horizon in search of some kind of goal for this race. Hmm… what about that buoy out there? It’s a pretty fair distance even from where you are now. You nudge Undyne and point towards your target. “Would that work? We swim there and come straight back?”

“You’re on.” She drops low in the water, ready to go, and glances back at Frisk. “Wanna count us off?”

They beam and raise one hand straight up in the air. “On your mark!”

You exchange a quick glance with Undyne and get into position.

“Get set!”

You reach out to the water and reconnect.

“GO!” Their hand comes crashing down onto the water’s surface and the two of you charge into the waves. You dip just below the surface and rush forward through the water, just like before. It takes a bit longer than last time since it’s so far away, maybe fifteen seconds this time, but you manage to reach the buoy and pull a hairpin turn around it to head back. You fall a bit lower in the water and pass soundlessly beneath Undyne, who’s about halfway to the goal by now. Huh, that’s a little further than you expected, the buoy was pretty far out.

Frisk notices your approach and blinks at you in surprise when you resurface. “You didn’t finish already, did you?” they ask incredulously.

You shrug and your trail follows the motion. “Yeah, course I did.” You bring one hand up to your eyes to shield them from the sunlight as you look out across the water. “Looks like Undyne’s almost there now, but it’s gonna be a minute before she gets back. She’s doing  _ really _ well though, even for a fish monster, I’m impressed.”

“But you weren’t even gone for a minute!”

You wink at them over your shoulder and smirk. “Told you I was fast.”

Frisk shakes their head in disbelief, still smiling. “I mean I don’t know what I expected since you’re in your  _ element _ right now,” they say as they waggle their eyebrows (you roll your eyes despite your tiny smile), “but that was really cool! Do you always swim like that or something?”

“Eh, or something.” You glance at them out of the corner of your eye. “You’ve been really curious about me and my magic from the start, haven’t you? What with you asking so many questions and all, I mean. Does me being an elemental have something to do with it?”

Frisk snickers but just shrugs in reply. You ruffle their drying hair just as Undyne makes it back, looking only half-surprised to see you already there. She gives you a rough pat on the back that almost pushes you underwater. “Geez, you really weren’t kidding,” she admits. “How long have you been here with the squirt?”

“A minute or two maybe.”

Undyne lets out a low appreciative whistle and a grin spreads across her face. She puffs up her chest as much as she can while still treading water and jabs a thumb towards herself. “That settles it! I’m gonna train to swim even faster and then I want a rematch! Next time I’ll win for sure!”

Her conviction makes you laugh loudly and you give her a thumbs-up as your trail sways happily along the water’s surface. “I’m looking forward to it,” you agree.

“Make sure you guys invite me,” Frisk interjects, drawing your attention once more, “because I really wanna see that again.” They not-so-subtly shoot you a look out of the corner of their eye. It’s obvious even to you that they’re barely holding back from asking you to show off some more. 

“Thanks buddy,” you say, glancing back towards the beach, “but I think we should really be looking f--” Whatever thought you were forming is cut short when a few flashes of movement and color among the waves further down the coastline catch your eye. “Wait, what are those?”

Frisk floats over to your side and follows your gaze out across the water before letting out a series of barely-contained snickers and chuckles. “They’re just surfers. They’re kind of out here a lot,” they tell you. When you just give them a blank look they have to add, “Do you… not know what surfing is?”

You shake your head. “No, not at all. It sounds fun though, what is it?”

“You just kinda stand on a board and ride the waves when they come in.”

Your eyes glimmer at the idea and you flash a delighted smile as you face them and Undyne. “I want to do that. Can I do that?”

Frisk smiles and opens their mouth to say something but Undyne cuts them off with an excited grin. “Oh my god yes,” she says. “There’s a shop somewhere up on the Walk that sells surfbo--”

You’re gone long before she can even finish her sentence, re-emerging from the water just before the shoreline a few seconds later and turning back to wave at the two of them. While they’re still paddling their way back, you rush up to the Walk and peek through some of the shop windows. You’re practically buzzing with glee, trail swishing high and erratic behind you.

This is your chance to try a cool new human thing! If you get to do stuff like this every time, you really  _ should _ be getting out of Grillby’s bar more often! Well maybe not  _ so _ often that you don’t hang out with Grillby anymore, but still! Human stuff!! A faint stripe of indigo rises to your cheeks unbidden but you’re pretty sure it’s just from the excitement.

The sound of hard footfalls behind you shakes you of your reverie and you turn to see Undyne running up to meet you, still dripping water. “Wrong side of the Walk, nerd,” she says, flashing a grin. She jerks her head to one side and starts walking the same way, not waiting to see if you’re following (you are).

The shop she eventually leads you into has a sign outside that reads “Surf Free” and your already wide smile grows even wider. The bell above the doorway tinkles softly when you step inside. There seems to be a lot of stuff in here but the only thing you’re interested in looking at right now is that wall full of long boards. Those are probably what Frisk meant, right? You don’t see anything else that could fit their description. You rush over and clasp your hands tightly as you look over everything, practically bouncing with delight. You’re so eager, in fact, that your trail is audibly flicking and swishing directly above your head when normally it stays closer to your shoulders.

Behind you, Undyne snickers quietly at your antics but stops when you lean back and whisper, “Is there a difference between all of these? There’s so many I don’t know what to pick.” She shrugs noncommittally so you twist back, think for a moment, and just grab the nicest looking one. It’s yellow with a red-orange sun in the middle and it’ll probably work, right? Right.

With the board tucked snugly under your arm, you turn and hurry back towards the door so you can get back to the beach. You’ve just gotten ahold of the handle when a very timid voice speaks up behind you.

“H-hey, um, you can’t just, uh, take that… uh, s-sorry.”

You and Undyne look back over your shoulders at the same time and the person behind the counter actually jumps an inch off the ground. It’s a teenager, maybe fifteen or sixteen at most. Their curly, black hair is pulled back into a short ponytail, messy but looking like they tried and failed to fix it. White circular glasses magnify their eyes and stand out against tanned skin. They’re standing very still with their shoulders up to their ears and smiling nervously. They swallow thickly and gesture to the board you’re holding. “Y-you have to, um, pay f-for it,” they mumble.

Your trail falls back down past its normal height and your shoulders slump as the elation slowly drains from you. In your enthusiasm you’d forgotten about paying and you don’t have any money. At least not today since, as you found out earlier while trying to pay Grillby for one of his drinks, you had accidentally left it behind when you came up to visit. You were going to go back and get it (even though you knew it might take a while because you couldn’t remember where it was), but Grillby had assured you it was fine so you stayed. 

You release a soft sigh and manage one step towards the rack of boards before Undyne grabs your arm. Startled, you look up at her but she just shoots a broad, toothy grin your way. “No way man, I wanna see this. I’m paying for the board.” She easily steps past you and pulls a wallet out of her bag. You hadn’t noticed she’d picked that up before.

You open your mouth soundlessly, looking for something to say while she digs coins out of her wallet, but end up closing it with a click and walking up silently to stand beside her. “You don’t have to do that, Undyne,” you murmur. “It’s not  _ that _ big of a deal. Not really.”

She squints at you out of the corner of her good eye, her hand frozen above the cashier’s outstretched one and still holding her money. “Shore,” she deadpans. “Do you wanna surf or not?”

“...Yes.”

“Okay then.” She drops her coins into the cashier’s hand, who accidentally drops a few and scrambles to pick them up before they can clatter to the floor. “Take the board and go surf, you big nerd.”

You beam, flashing a pointy smile that inadvertently makes the already nervous cashier flinch. “Thanks Undyne! I owe you one!” You whip back around, narrowly avoiding knocking a whole display shelf to the ground with one end of your surfboard, and dash out of the shop. You know Undyne will be right behind you so you don’t bother waiting for her and instead rush straight back down to the beach, trail flying high once again above your head.

Frisk is sitting next to their and Undyne’s stuff when you return, already having completely buried their legs in the sand and starting to work on their stomach. But as soon as you pop into view looking downright ecstatic and holding the rather obvious surfboard, they haul themselves to their feet, scattering sand across anything and everything within a few feet. They almost look as excited as you.

“You’re doing this?” they ask.

“I’m doing this,” you affirm.

The two of you stare at each other a moment longer before grins break out across your faces and you both dash along the beach down to the shore. You slow down near a section that’s a little closer to the other surfers, feet plodding heavily against the wet sand as you come to a stop. Backing up a few feet to give yourself a head start, you sprint seaward and flop onto the board. It wobbles for a second under you but steadies just as quickly as you coast out onto the gentle waves.

A few minutes pass by in silence, water lapping at your limbs, before you huff and sit up. You’ve got the board but what are you supposed to do now? Surfing can’t be  _ that _ hard, but you’re just not sure where to go from here. Frisk just shrugs when you glance back their way, so as Undyne jogs up the shoreline to meet them, you face your board once more with a thoughtful look.

A flash of color from another surfer catches your eye again. Maybe you can just watch them and copy what they’re doing? You lift your head and squint into the distance. One of them, a tall woman on a blindingly bright neon board, plows through the water past even where you’re sitting now. She waits there, one hand lowered in the water, while the ocean swells with the beginnings of another wave. Moving over the top of it she tilts forward, further and further until she drops into the underside of it, planting her feet firmly on the board and riding it all the way down.

You blink and she’s already out of sight but you know where to start now. You’ve got to get way further out than this.

Boosted by a bit of your water magic, you paddle away from the shore and wait again. After only a few moments you feel the swell of an incoming wave flow past your legs and you grin. Holding your hands against either side of the board, you plant your feet and stand up. You can still see Undyne and Frisk back on the shore so you raise a hand above your head and wave at them. Your foot shifts an inch to the left with the motion and then your board jerks the opposite way and--

It flies out from under you as you tumble, arms flailing, into the ocean. You don’t even make it down the wave.

You’re quick enough to resurface that you don’t lose sight of your board floating a good ten or fifteen feet away. You’re also quick enough to notice the howls of laughter coming from your friends, even this far out to sea. Frisk has their hands pressed firmly over their mouth, trying to hold it in, but Undyne’s outright doubled over and is shaking with the force of her cackles. Your face immediately flushes a deep shade of indigo and you have to fight to resist the urge to sink below the waves to hide from it.

Instead of doing that, you haul yourself back onto your board and yell back at them, “It’s not as easy as it looks, okay?!”

You can’t see their exact expressions due to the distance but you catch Undyne wiping at her good eye. Was she really laughing that hard? She brings her hands up to her mouth and shouts back, “We know! It’s just that you were doing great in the water like ten minutes ago! And now you’re--!” She can’t even finish her sentence as she devolves back into guffaws.

You huff and get ready to stand again, shifting in place even though there’s no wave yet. Going slower this time so as to be extra careful, you bring your legs up and rise from the board, arms out to balance you. You feel steady. You release a breath and smile proudly.

Until a tiny wave barely nudges you and you lose your balance and fall into the water again.

Despite your persistence and your many repeated attempts, you can’t stand steadily enough to remain upright for more than half a minute. This isn’t going anywhere and you’re just getting frustrated. With a sigh you lay back on the board and gently guide yourself to shore with your magic. Maybe it’s time to regroup.

Your trail shifts agitatedly as you step back out of the water holding your board under one arm. Frisk, sitting down on the damp sand, brightens visibly but falters when they see your expression. Undyne is the one to speak up, however. “Whoa, hey, what’s up? You were really feeling this a few minutes ago, what happened?”

You shrug. “It’s not working and I don’t know what to do about it,” you mutter, running a hand through your trail in exasperation. “Maybe I should just… try again some other time?”

Frisk shakes their head with a fervor that catches you off guard and you jump. “No, you can do it!” they insist. “You just gotta stay determined! There’s gotta be something you’re missing, right? Something else you could do to fix it?”

You pause for a moment, trail sweeping slowly behind you as you think. Undyne said you had been doing great in the water, but the problem here is that you’re  _ not _ in the water, you’re  _ on top _ of it and this weird board is just tripping you up because it’s separating you from the ocean in a way you’re not familiar with. 

But then you blink as it hits you. What if you…?

Your grip on the board shifts as you hand it off to Frisk, who looks up at you with a questioning tilt to their head. “Can you hold onto this for a minute?” you ask. “I think I’ve got an idea.” Once they nod, you dive back into the water and, pushing yourself along with magic, swim right back out to sea.

You float in place below the waves for a moment and focus. It takes some small bit of effort, a little more than you expect, but you reach up to the surface and smile when it feels firm under your touch. You haul yourself upwards, pulling against it until you can bring your legs up over the edge and stand fully. The ocean stirs and ripples softly beneath your feet. You can feel it shift and swirl with growing energy as a new wave approaches and a grin stretches across your face.

Let’s try something different.

You take one step back, then a second, then a third as the wave swells under you. The instant it rises high enough above the water, you sprint forward and chase it, trail flying high and wild as the wind whistles around you. You’re struck briefly by the thought that this might have been a bad idea but it’s quickly washed away in the face of your mounting joy and excitement. The wave builds more, taller and taller, until at last it comes to its peak. You reach the top at the perfect moment.

Just as the crest begins its fall, you hop over the edge and coast down its side with the ocean striking at your heels.

The sensation is unlike any other you’ve felt before. The ocean doesn’t typically give you much resistance, so feeling it cut into your legs as you slide along the wave is wholly unnatural to you and it’s absolutely wonderful. The roar of it echoing in your head and all around you is deafening but despite that, you can still hear your Soul singing in your chest. You reach out slowly and run a hand through the rushing wave. It beats and surges against your fingers like it’s alive. You  _ feel _ alive. You could stay like this, skidding down the side of this massive wall of water, for hours and hours.

But you’re no expert when it comes to surfing, so it’s not long before your legs grow just a little too close to one another and you trip over your own feet and go tumbling head over heels into the wave.

You can’t even force yourself to be frustrated with your wipeout. You‘re too overjoyed to be upset. Instead, you cackle long and hard below the surf as the thrill of it slowly fades from you. Your cheeks hurt from the force of your grins and your sides are starting to ache from the laughter but you’re not calming down any time soon.

As the last few chuckles escape you, you glance back up to the ocean’s surface. You should probably be getting back to Frisk and Undyne, right? But a wide, excited smile finds its way to your face as the underside of another wave passes overhead. Maybe you can find time for a couple more runs.

…

Frisk is bouncing eagerly on the beach when you finally hop back onto the beach. “That was so cool, Shore! Do it again, do it again!” they cheer. You chuckle under your breath at their enthusiasm and open your mouth to respond when Undyne cuts you off.

“Nah, sorry kid, but I’ve got work in a little bit and it looks like Papyrus wants to hang out somewhere on the Walk before that,” she says, peering at a few messages on her phone. You suppose she grabbed it while you were out on the water. “Plus we have to take the board back soon, it’s just a rental.”

“Aww, really?” Frisk groans. They frown for a moment before their eyes widen and they gasp softly. “Wait, does that mean we missed the event?” 

You glance around the coast in search of any major activity, but you don’t see much of anything. It’s just smaller groups and families enjoying their time on the beach.

Undyne shrugs. “Guess so,” she says.

They pout a little but look back at you. “Well anyway you’ve  _ gotta _ come out and surf like that again sometime,” they insist. “Please?”

You, still practically vibrating with glee, give them a huge grin. “Hell yeah.”

For the next several minutes, Frisk’s roaring laughter is barely audible over Undyne’s shouting about language and your own emphatic apologies about the slip-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://ominousbears.tumblr.com/) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ominousbears) ✌


	6. An Ending, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are, six months after I posted the last chapter of this fic. Oops?
> 
> First off, I just want to say I *totally* meant to do more with this fic. I had a *lot* planned, as you’re about to see, but after a certain point, my interest in Undertale as a whole sort of waned more than I expected and it all just kinda… fell away from me. Hyperfixations, amiright? lmao
> 
> These final chapters are gonna lay out everything I’d had planned for Seas in Flame the last time I left off. I’ll be splitting it into multiple parts for ease of reading, and it’ll be split as follows; 
> 
> \-- Part I, the outlines - all the notes I’d written for myself going forward, a fairly basic set of guidelines for all the future chapters I’d had in mind. Though, fair warning; *none* of my outlines are especially professional. They all ramble and are pretty conversational, and in all honesty, they’re kind of funny to read, in my opinion. I’ve also included the few behavioral tidbits I kept in mind for writing Elemental Shore throughout the creation of this fic, because those are cute too honestly.  
> \-- Part II, the singular (mostly) finished chapter - because I can’t seem to ever write things in order, I wrote the majority of a chapter intended to take place much later in this fic before inevitably giving up on it. It’s pretty fluffy but I had a lot of fun writing it. Unfortunately, this too is unfinished, so it’s *also* got an outline near the end… which is also unfinished. Big surprise.  
> \-- Part III, the miscellaneous drabbles I came up with over the few months I was writing this fic. All entirely disconnected, these bits are just the self-indulgent lead-ins to other potential plot-points. However, unlike the outlines, these are more properly written and fleshed out, but not *nearly* fleshed out enough to be considered a full chapter on its own, like, y’know, the word *drabble* would imply. Y’all know what I’m on about.
> 
> With that, here’s the end of Seas in Flame! I sincerely hope you all had as much fun with this as I did. Have a wonderful day, y’all, and goodbye. <3
> 
> (And, as always, feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://ominousbears.tumblr.com/) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ominousbears) ✌)

misc ideas:

  1. one more filler before we get to fuku!!! idk what its gonna be abt tho!!!!!
  2. return of fuku!!! contest goes on as normal, gets hired, watches shore n grillby interact for the next few weeks, talks to both of them, thinks it's cute, etc
  3. frisk pov for part of it?? notices shore n grill reach toward each other a lot (write up multiple instances of tht), is out with toriel buying clothes, sees some glove pairs (don’t reveal just yet), wraps them up and gifts them to shore and grillby (color coded for each of them) so they can hold hands aw <3



 

EVENTUALLY (ch # unplanned yet)

  * childhood friends au - shore and grillby were summoned around the same time kind of near each other (grillbys older tho), write abt their shenanigans growing up together during wartime (reunite way way later in the same way that sif originally did? except this time they have a relationship already sort of established?)
  * shore takes undyne down to explore some of her favorite places in the ocean since she can breathe enough to see them; places = a cool bioluminescent cave she found, a cliff face overlooking a shark breeding ground(?), etc; undyne beings her phone camera (waterproofed by alphys bc of course it was) to take pictures and sends em to grillby maybe? probably tbh (including one selfie with shore; he’d never say it but he honestly likes that one the most)
  * winter approaches and the cold makes shore more sluggish; she normally moves south to avoid winters bc she kind of starts to freeze?? it can get dangerous for her if she’s not really careful, but the deep sea monsters she normally goes with have definitely already left by now; didn’t go with them because she wanted to stay in town with everyone here (especially grillby shhhhh dont tell him) (maybe grill calls in a favor with sans and asks him to take her shopping for winter clothes with frisk? bc if she’s gonna be here a while and she wants to go outside ever, she’s gonna have to stay warm yknow? stop lookin at him like that, sans, it’s just a friends thing, he’s concerned for her health, back OFF)
    * (half written in other folder)
  * war stuff: how shore got her scars (hip: impaled through thigh w ice // chest: hit by a fire mage’s attack during an ambush)
  * war stuff: shore gets straight up electrocuted, let’s see how that goes (ch title: a shock)
  * toriel stops by the bar sometime, questions why shore, being an elemental, wasnt with everyone else who went below; shore gets nervous/upset bc she thinks toriel is mad at her, either grillby or toriel assures her thats absolutely not the case



 

elemental stuff:

  * deeper pool of strength and magical energy than most other monsters
    * grill - more offensive; high strength + med magic compared to other elems
    * shore - more defensive; low strength + high magic compared to others
      * needs to be durable af to keep up walls n other defenses
  * needs to learn how not to burn out at first so ur not using up all ur energy
    * grill - ??? more likely for him to burn out quickly, he’s fire
    * shore - a little harder for her to burn out; longer battery life, so to speak
  * can technically eat anything they want (maybe just grillby?? fire)
    * grill - prefers to eat pine cones (like apples??)
    * shore - prefers to eat shells (like chips)
  * (shore) could maybe kind of shapeshift?
    * has to stay in the same basic humanoid shape
    * can alter parts of the body, ie arms to make them skinnier, able to slip out of grips
    * makes it easier to dodge attacks n all
  * creating from yourself is easier than controlling the natural element
    * ie conjuring a fireball vs taking control of a campfire



 

shore trail habits:

  * even with head/along the tops of the shoulders: normal
  * low against back: upset/sad
  * high above head, waving erratically(?): happy/excited
  * moving slowly along shoulders: thinking? a little more serious maybe
  * flicking sharply along back: angry
  * completely still: something’s very wrong (no particular emotion)
  * pulled in close to the head: sheepish/embarrassed?




	7. An Ending, Part II

Chapter ?: A Favor

 

You've never quite understood the appeal of autumn as a season. It's cold, it's bitter, and honestly you’re not a fan of the snow that comes shortly after. Unfortunately for you, it's been getting colder in Daiport over the past few weeks as the weather shifts from warm and humid to chilly and dry, and you're definitely feeling it when you step out of the ocean today.

 

Your clothes are always soaked when you come up, that part’s no surprise to you because of course they are, but what you aren’t expecting is the frigid wind sweeping along the coast, intensified by the moisture clinging to your person. You gasp sharply and your whole being tenses up; it was  _ not _ this cold yesterday, did the temperature drop when you weren’t looking? Wrenching as much of the extra water out of your sailclothes as you can, you hurl it back into the ocean and stride further inland towards Grillby's.

 

Though you’re moving as fast as you can without outright running, it does little to warm you up in this weather without proper clothing; you can still feel the cold pull at your bare limbs, your face, your back, anywhere it touches. This wind is  _ strong _ , stronger than you thought it’d be, and it makes the air feel so much colder. Your core is twisting and churning, rushing agitatedly through you against the low temperatures, and it almost makes you feel nauseous.

 

It’s only forty-five degrees out but the gusts push it ten lower, and you think this  _ sucks _ .

 

Just as your movements start feeling vaguely sluggish, you shove through the door to Grillby’s (perhaps a little harder than absolutely necessary) and practically fall back against it to close it, shoulders slumping in tiredness and relief as the gentle heat of the bar washes over you. You look up and give a reassuring smile to Grillby, whose flames are flickering with concern and a hint of alarm at the sight of you. He pauses, one foot already halfway out from behind the bar to approach you, when you straighten and make your way towards your normal seat.

 

Grillby’s expression softens as you flop onto the counter and give an over-dramatic sigh. “Didn’t sleep well?” he asks teasingly, retrieving the glass he’d set down before.

 

You don't respond right away, but after a minute or so you slowly raise one hand and seesaw it in the air. His flames crackle and pop in return, sounding amused if you're reading him correctly.

 

You look so tired, Grillby thinks, like you haven't slept in a while; your head rests on the crook of one elbow, trail falling low and slow over your shoulders and onto your arms. You're staring at him while he slowly polishes the glass, eyes fighting to stay open, but you don't really seem to take notice when he sets it aside with the other clean dishes until he rests a gloved hand on your arm.

 

“Is something wrong?” His concern is always comforting, but what's even better right now is the warmth from his hold on you seeping into your surface. It's wonderful compared to what you just came in from, so without really thinking you grip his hand tight with your free one and pull yourself closer to him. Grillby tenses in your grasp but after a moment he relaxes and leans down to be more on your level. “Shore?” he presses with a quick squeeze of his hand.

 

You smile semi-guiltily at him. “Yeah, sorry,” you answer. “It's a lot colder and windier today than I was expecting, I guess. Me and this kind of weather just really don't mix well, y'know? Not used to it anymore.” You release his hand so he can get back to his work but a minute shiver courses down your back, almost imperceptible to anyone but you. Grillby, however, has a very good eye.

 

A tiny grin flits across your face as the heat coming from him increases slightly even though he's a good few feet away. He's stoking his fire to keep you warm. It's a nice gesture, one that you genuinely appreciate even if you're not freezing anymore.

 

“How do you mean you're not used to it?” he asks quietly. “The winter comes every year.”

 

You shrug and draw yourself up to sit properly at the counter. “I'm not usually around when the temperature drops, though, I would’ve started heading south by now. It's been a while since I've had to deal with it.” He hums thoughtfully.

 

A comfortable moment of silence falls between you two. You listen closely to the low ambience of the restaurant: glassware clinking, murmurs of hushed conversation in far away booths, the gentle swishing and crackling of your and Grillby's elements reacting to one another as they often do, the almost inaudible  _ thwip _ of a playing card being laid against a table… Yeah, you think with mild satisfaction, you wouldn't leave this for the world.

 

The atmosphere is broken when a couple steps into the restaurant, chatting happily and unintentionally bringing with them a harsh blast of cold air that makes you squeak and hunch a little more into your seat. It’s gone just as quickly as it came but you’re still left curled in on yourself, gripping your own arms tightly. You’ve overreacted and you know it; it wasn’t actually that bad, you just didn’t expect it. Feeling slightly embarrassed, you glance up at Grillby.

 

He’s staring at you in shock, flames popping sharply with concern as green colors their edges. For a moment he looks torn over something and you’re just about to ask him what's up when he raises a hand for you to wait, moving quickly to the set of stairs off to the side and ascending. You sit there, trail waving slowly along your shoulders and jerking when a chill hits you, until he returns barely half a minute later with something thick and stiff-looking that you can’t quite make out draped over his arm. You tilt your head and give him a questioning look, but you’ve barely opened your mouth to speak when Grillby strides past the bar towards you and pulls it over your shoulders.

 

It’s a long trenchcoat, charcoal grey, woolen, and heavy as you hesitantly tug it closer. There’s something like a residual warmth in the inner fabric seeping into your back (not to mention the more present heat from Grillby’s hands still resting on your shoulders) and you press your face into the collar, trying to hide your grin. You breathe deep and are pleasantly surprised to find it smells like a campfire, smoky and aromatic. You force yourself to pull away before you start blushing like a maniac, though there’s a hint of indigo already spread across your face. “Thank you,” you say, looking up at him and smiling brightly.

 

He merely squeezes one of your shoulders and resumes his place back around the bar to tend to his customers. But later when he has the time, he leans against the counter on his forearms and finally asks, “Is the cold really that bad for you?”

 

You shrug, somewhat noncommittal, but nod. “I mean, part of it is that I haven’t dealt with it in like nine hundred years, but yeah, it mostly just sucks. I can manage though, I’ll be fine this season.” You halfheartedly wave a hand as if to brush off any concerns he has, but the motion accidentally throws the trenchcoat off one shoulder just as the door opens  _ again _ (stars, the one day you’d like this place to be a little less busy…) and you grit your teeth, tensing against a shiver as you reach for the fallen fabric.

 

“Shore.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s frowning, you can hear it in his voice.

 

“Grillby,” you mimic, throwing on a fake half-smile once you have the coat back in place. He gives you a pointed look.

 

You sigh heavily and put your hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fine. Yes, ice and snow and the cold in general are all awful and if I’m caught in it for too long, it could get pretty bad pretty quickly. I usually head south towards warmer waters around this time of year to avoid it.” You bring your arms up to the table and rest your chin on a palm. “But really, I’ll be _ fine _ . I don’t want you to worry about me,” you insist.

 

Grillby flickers and crackles as his colors grow a shade darker. “How bad is ‘pretty bad?’” he asks seriously. He swears he doesn’t mean to press the issue, but it's only late October now and while today is chillier than normal, it's only going to get colder from here. And if your reactions thus far are anything to go by… 

 

You fix him with a tired but intense look, one he hasn’t seen on you before and it feels strange to see that on a face that’s normally so joyous and open. “What happens to water when it gets really, really cold?” you mumble.

 

“It freezes,” he says as if it should be obvious. And then he realises, and then it  _ is _ obvious, and-- “You could  _ freeze _ ?” In an instant he's pure green and standing straight up, tense like he half-expects it to happen right now. His eyes are wide and locked on you. Your brow furrows as you lift yourself off the countertop and lean closer to put your hand firmly on top of his.

 

“Technically,  _ sure _ , but only if it gets  _ really _ cold, like close to  _ zero degrees _ cold,” you urge. “It won’t get like that around here, we’re not far enough north. I’ll be  _ fine _ . It’s just uncomfortable.”

 

Grillby’s flames are still snapping loudly, though the green is very slowly receding. “But why wouldn’t you go south then? Why would you stay here even though it’s clearly terrible?”

 

You pull your eyes from his and stare at the ground, trying to suppress the indigo growing on your face. “I, um…” Stumbling over your words too now, huh? That’s cool. “I kind of, uh… didn’t  _ want _ to leave? I like being here, being around so many monsters for the first time in a long time… being around you.” You chance a quick look at Grillby before immediately redirecting your attention back to the floorboards. You only get a second to see the flare of blue that shoots up in his flames. “A-and Frisk and Sans, and everyone else too, I mean,” you quickly add in an (awful) attempt to recover. Your cheeks are turning indigo at an alarming rate.

 

“...Oh.” Grillby doesn’t sound any better to be honest, so that’s mildly reassuring.

 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “but, uh, I don’t really know what to exactly expect with winters around here since I’ve never been around, so I might be spending a lot of my time inside.” You remove your hand from his and run the other over your trail as you squint, thinking for a moment. “I’ll have to see if I can stay with Toriel or something, I don’t think she’ll mind all that much, but I should still ask…”

 

For one long second, he very seriously considers offering his home to you for the winter. You’re here all the time anyway, and he knows it’ll never get cold because of his fire, so it  _ could _ be your best option. But he hesitates, because the two of you only met a handful of months ago. It feels wrong to offer that now, like he’d be forcing the decision on you. So he stays silent, and then it becomes too late to say anything. You stand up from your seat and let out a long sigh.

 

“In any case, I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assure him. You shrug off Grillby’s coat and hold it out to him, but he shakes his head.

 

“Please, you use it for now,” he says, “it’s the least I can do.”

 

You stop. “Are you sure? It’s your coat.” He nods, and you beam at him gratefully before shoving your arms through the long sleeves and pulling it up over your shoulders.

 

Grillby slaps a hand over his mouth to hold in the sudden bark of laughter that comes over him. Since you’re a full head shorter than him, the charcoal trenchcoat that normally falls about halfway down his calves is almost dragging on the ground when you wear it. You scowl at him (though he definitely sees the twitch at the corners of your mouth) and haphazardly roll up the cuffs until they’re short enough to let you fasten the belt twice around your middle. It’s a messy look but it’ll do, he thinks as a streak of blue flashes across his face.

 

You let out a breath of laughter and rest one gloved hand on top of his, relishing in the brief warmth it lends you before you pull away again. “See you tomorrow, Grillby!” You give the bartender a short wave and a cheery smile, and walk right out into the frigid town. Though thankfully the wind seems to have died down, an occasional gust still hits the exposed parts of your head, making you shift uncomfortably and remember to flip up the collar.

 

He waits a few minutes after you leave before reaching for his phone and writing up a short message.

 

Grillby:

\- I have a favor to ask of you

 

He doesn’t expect a response right away so he tends to what customers remain for a while. He’s just returned from serving one table’s fourth round of fries when he sees the notification light blink in the corner of the screen.

 

Sans:

\- whatcha need?

 

Grillby:

\- It appears Shore will be staying here for the winter, but the cold isn’t good for her and I believe she only has the sailcloth she wears all the time

\- If you can, it would be nice if you could take her shopping for suitable clothes so she doesn’t literally freeze. I will give you the money you need

\- I imagine Frisk would like to go as well, and I believe they would know best what to get

 

It’s quite a bit longer than his normal texts but he feels the situation deserves explanation. There’s a long pause after he sends them, but just as Grillby moves to put the phone back down, it buzzes with an incoming reply.

 

Sans:

\- buying her all the clothes she could ever want, huh?

\- i thought you were supposed to wait til the first date to give gifts

 

Grillby stands there for a moment, just gaping at his phone. His flames grow taller and bluer without him realising it as he types out another text.

 

G:

\- I’m just concerned for her health, that’s all. Nothing wrong with that

 

Sans:

\- never seemed all that concerned for me, your best friend, back in snowdin and it snowed there all the time

 

G:

\- We’re both aware you don’t feel the cold as much

 

Sans:

\- heh, what can i say?

\- it just goes right through me

 

It’s completely predictable, he’s used it a million times, but Grillby rolls his eyes anyway.

 

G:

\- Sans

\- Will you take her to get winter clothing?

 

Sans:

\- pshhh, i guess if i gotta, lol

\- we both know you’d rather be the one takin her out anyway

 

G:

\- Thank you. I appreciate it

 

Sans:

\- dont mention it

\- she stayin with you then?

 

G:

\- Why would you think that?

 

Sans:

\- eh, just the way you said it

 

G:

\- No, I believe she's on her way to ask Toriel. She just left here a few minutes ago

 

Sans:

\- huh

\- ok

\---

next scene:

  * shore reaches toriel’s place, frisk answers the door
  * asks if their mum’s home, toriel comes down the stairs and urges shore inside, too cold outside
  * toriel asks shore what brings her here, shore explains her sitch, asks if she can stay the winter
  * of course toriel says yes, why the fuck would she say no, it’s toriel
  * sans pops in, accidentally startles shore, looks mildly (fake) surprised at shore’s presence, asks toriel to talk for a sec (relays grill’s request + the fact tht shore’s gonna ask to stay, toriel already knows the latter of course and gives permission to take frisk along if they wanna go)
    * (sans is deffo incredibly fucking amused with shore wearin grill’s coat lmao)
  * frisk compliments the trenchcoat and asks where shore got it, she mentions it’s not hers actually, it’s grillby’s, he was nice enough to let me borrow it
  * frisk: ooo what a gentleman! // shore: child PLS im beggin u (blushes a lot bc of course)
  * sans n tori reenter the room, sans makes a show of lookin at his jacket, dialogue follows:
    * sans: wow would ya look at that, gettin colder already n i don’t think i have a thicker jacket than this, looks ill have to go grab a new one from the store real quick, hey shore n frisk yall wanna come with
    * frisk: hell yea boi
    * shore: um. sure




	8. An Ending, Part III

You’ve been shocked by Faith plenty of times, whether on purpose or by accident. For a second you think it’ll just feel like any other attack; terribly painful but still manageable.

 

Just for a second.

 

And then you’re struck by the most agonizing pain you’ve ever felt and you can’t do anything but scream. The sheer power and murderous intent behind this crackling force surges through your watery form so quickly, so easily, that your vision goes white even as your eyes scrunch hard in pain. It’s so all-consuming that you barely feel the ground hit you when you collapse, writhing. You can’t move. You can’t speak. You can’t see. You can barely even think about how much this hurts, and stars above does it  _ hurt _ . It’s so much, too much,  _ too much, stop, please--!! _

 

In an instant, the pain simply ends. It releases its hold on you and you feel as though you’ve just been dropped from a thousand feet. Your breaths are shallow and unsteady but you’re breathing nonetheless.

 

  * ch idea: gets electrocuted mid battle, has to be hauled away but wants to go back; some other monster (nurse or smth?) tells her she can’t bc she can barely stand, let alone fight



\---

Making sure not to break eye contact with the elemental before you, you bring your fingertips up to your mouth and gently kiss them. Grillby tilts his head in confusion even as blue colors the tips of his flames. Then, slowly, you reach across the bar and press your hand, the hand you kissed, against his cheek.

 

He’s so warm under your touch, it’s incredibly pleasant but very different from the chilled depths of the ocean you’ve been used to for so long. You felt it before, back when he comforted you about running away, but this feels stronger somehow. He feels like if sunshine were tangible. But suddenly he grows warmer and warmer still as he blushes hard, a deep blue that definitely rivals your own natural hue. You break into a giggle so intense that you have to shut your eyes and double over, using your other hand to hold yourself up on the countertop. It’s a beautiful sight, and Grillby finds himself laughing alongside you.

 

It takes another long, joy-filled moment before either of you realise you haven’t removed your hand from his face.

 

  * ch idea: shore kisses her fingertips, presses them to grill’s cheek, it doesn’t steam whatsoever but grill _does_ straight up erupt into a blue blush. it’s cute and we love him



\---  
  


“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“oh come on,” Sans says with an exasperated but good-natured scoff, “we all knew there was _something_ goin’ on there when you did that firebird a month back.” He grabs his ketchup bottle and takes a few long glugs before giving Grillby a teasing look with one eye closed. “you don’t show off like that for just anything. heh, or anyone.”

 

Grillby’s flames pop loudly and he flushes blue for just a second before narrowing his eyes at Sans, who’s grinning smugly at his reaction. “She asked if I could do anything interesting with my magic, so I gave an example. Nothing more, nothing less.”

 

“pretty quick on the draw though. you barely even hesitated.”

 

“It was just the first thing I thought of. And in any case, it wasn’t as complicated as it could have been.”

 

“i’m not hearin’ you deny that you showed off.”

 

  * ch idea: sans + grill talk abt … stuff? i guess?? and this part comes up



\---  
  


Undyne reaches for something and flicks her wrist. You watch her magic materialize and solidify into a glowing, teal spear. Suddenly your breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen. She hoists it over her shoulder and all her muscles tense as she shoots it forward, aiming for the dock.

 

But the dock is just to your left and it looks like she’s throwing it at  _ you, she’s throwing it at you--! _

 

A familiar pain twinges in your thigh and you don’t think, you just react.

 

_ “No!” _ you screech as your own hands tense. They rip upward through the air and behind that motion follows every speck of water within ten feet of you. It surges up between you and Undyne and catches her spear as it flies through. You throw your hands to the left towards the ocean and the wall follows, crashing into the water there until your control drops and the wall subsides. Your eyes are still wide, your eyebrows still knitted together in fear, as you watch the spear fall lower and lower into the water, glow dimming as it goes. Your chest heaves with every breath and you close your eyes, trying to regain your composure.

 

The quiet crunch of a booted foot stepping on the sand instantly brings you back to attention and you whip around to face the source, hands outstretched and tensed. Undyne freezes with one foot forward and puts her hands up in surrender. Her eye is wide with either fear, concern, or perhaps a mix of both. The two of you hold your breaths for one long second before a wave of horror and embarrassment washes over you. You stand up straight and drop your hands to your sides, where they clench into a fist so hard your fingertips are digging into your palms. Your eyes drop to the sand at your feet, still damp from your outburst.

 

Your voice is rough when you speak again. “Sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that.”

 

  * ch idea: get into discussing scars n shit; shore panics @ undyne’s spear bc it looks so similar to that one ice mage’s shit who gave her the through-the-leg scar, has an outburst, undyne makes her talk abt it, they bond n shit




End file.
